


Dragonlore

by XanderB



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, And an awesome white dragon, Dragons, Explicit Language, Fantasy, Gay Sex, Lemon, Lime, M/M, Magic, Oral Sex, Other things I'm forgetting too, Squall's an Elf, That breathes ice, Violence, With a bow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5451401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XanderB/pseuds/XanderB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Universe SeiferXSquall. It is a time of dragons and those that ride them, though they are a dying breed under a mad king who destroys his own kind with every passing moment. Only with the help of fate will the riders have vengeance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor any references to novels, media, etc. I do not make any profit off writing this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Destiny Rising

A lone castle of stone stood proudly enshrouded by strong mountains in the land of Pern; its massive spires reaching as if to grasp the clouds right from the sky above. Its great walls were once filled with the laughter of young pupils on their way to study the ways of the Rider, but no more as there had been no new students for over three centuries. A lonesome and grim melancholy had fallen over the occupants of the once great Dragonskeep.

The treacherous King Lazarus and his fateful dragon companion Leviathan ruled with an iron fist slowly encroaching upon the castle, its only defense, the mountainous walls and the last of the Dragon Riders. The dreaded king had killed many of the old ones and continued to wheedle away the proud race, both riders and dragons falling victim to his vicious tyranny, finding their deaths for refusing to join his terrible forces and help him to dominate the land, most wanting to return the country to its former peaceful glory before such a king had stolen the crown. Many soulbonded couples had been torn apart, leaving many Riders weak of heart and soul, making them easy prey for the king's slaughter. The numbers had dwindled from their once hundreds to a mere seventy or eighty riders, only two elders remaining.

With no understanding of why new Riders had not been sensed in centuries, the elders had resigned themselves to the fact that the king was winning and feared that they would soon suffer the very real threat of extinction by his hand. Desperate, the elders had called several of the most experienced and strong Riders from their ranks and ordered them to travel the lands in search of new allies and possible riders. 

The story begins with one of those Riders, the last Rider to have been sensed over three centuries in the past, a lonely man, fated to a lonesome existence with no soulbonded mate to call his own. Seifer Almasy had searched and searched and searched over the many years, following leads that led to nowhere and though he continued searching upon the orders of the elders, the darkness in the back of his mind whispered that it was hopeless. No new riders would be found; it was his destiny to be alone, born alone and cursed to an infinite existence beneath the crushing weight of his loneliness, empty in his quest, but carrying on if only out of spite for the Gods. 

*******************************************************

Squall stalked through the forest bordering the land of his heritage and that of the dread King Lazarus, a bow in his pale, nimble hands as he searched the area for game to hunt for the night's meal. Fine wisps of dark chocolate coloured hair shifted idly in the soft breeze as he traveled on near silent feet.

A strange sound like that of a sad trumpet filtered through the foliage before him and his sharp eyes searched the treeline for the source as he moved cautiously forward. The dense forestry abruptly opened before him into a clearing, his breath catching in a horrified gasp. There in his path laid a massive, dangerously beautiful creature; a wounded black dragon called out pathetically. Great anger and sadness seeped into the dark haired elf's body as he slung his bow across his back, the taught string crossing his lithe chest as he approached the injured creature calmly and slowly, searching in his his mind for the dragon's own, desperately impressing his motives onto the large creature.

The dragon's head shifted wearily to roll a bright green eye over him. It did not move well, injuries so severe caused by arrows and swords prohibiting it from freely moving about. The young elf closed his eyes for a moment, reaching out a pale hand to touch the smooth snout of the dragon.

'Who's responsible for this old one?' he questioned quietly within their shared connection. The dragon's consciousness wavered as blood poured without slowing from the many terrible wounds on its hide.

'A dark rider... Madness in his heart,' came her pained reply.

Anger furrowed Squall's brow as he heard the pained voice within his mind.

'The king goes too far... Why were you attacked?' the elf responded, disgust clear in his mind's voice. It was criminal what the king did to the creatures in the lands. 

'He wanted me and mine to swear an unbreakable oath to him, to ally ourselves with a demon such as him who deserves not to call himself Rider. Many of my kin fell at his hands. I escaped only by pure desperation. I had no other choice for there was something precious that must be protected from the horrid king of corpses...'

A fine cinnamon brow raised as the elf listened to the dragon's strained words, his fingertips stroking over the smooth scales on the large creature's snout, 'What is this you speak of?'

The dragon convulsed for a moment, scales shivering as dark smoke furled from wide nostrils, something akin to a cough sounding from within its great chest. Squall stroked its soft nose soothingly with the backs of his knuckles. When the fit subsided, the emerald eyes focused back upon him, though the light within them was fevered, flicking as if fighting to remain.

'I have not much time left in this place. I cannot protect my precious quarry any longer. The dragons have striven for this for many centuries now. This is our last gift and our last hope for you and your's young one. I impart you with this task. Will you accept this dangerous and most important quest?' the dragon's voice was hoarse and strained as she implored him. He nodded, unable to refuse the request, a strange calling in him urging him on.

The dark dragon moved awkwardly, unfolding bloodied arms to reveal a brilliant opal stone like object. It was no more than an arm's length and no thicker around than half that. He swallowed thickly, reaching to receive the strange object. As soon as his palm touched the smooth, shimmering surface, a shock ran through him, an odd buzz that took his body over with familiarity.

'Protect this most precious gift with your entire life young one for if you fail, all will be lost. This be the last of our offspring, the rest stolen or crushed by the king. You are now entwined with this last request. You will be a Rider, the first in three centuries. Care for this child and embrace that which is your destiny... I can hold this life no longer...'

Delicately pointed ears quivered as Squall pressed the warm egg to his chest, wrapping a protective arm around it. The dragon's words rang in his mind ominously. He had already decided he would accept the quest without doubt and do whatever he must to be true to it.

Stormy eyes closed for a moment as he fought to gain his bearings, 'I will cherish this gift which you have bestowed upon me and I will not fail. Go now in peace old one and worry not for my hands may be small, but my will is strong. You will not be disappointed...'

The dragon's head nodded once and one final melancholy trill sounded before the creature laid it's great head to the earth and was silent. Tears slid from luminous twilight depths Squall turned from the sight, the egg held in his arms tightly, the sound of his heart permeating through the hard opal shell. He made his way back to his home and spent the following three weeks keeping careful care of the precious egg.

He slept with it pressed to his chest, singing soft lullabys in the native tongue of the earth to the dragon child within. It was nearly a month before the elf was woken abruptly in the night by the feeling of another in his mind. The touch was tentative and warm, searching and he smiled as he realized the source. The egg lay cracked on the floor next to his bed, one bright crimson eye peeking through the widening crack. An awed smile formed on bowed lips as he knelt before the egg, reaching with careful fingers to pull the shell from the top, revealing the beautiful snowy white dragon within. He had never heard of such a dragon with scales the colour of pure white snow and deep scarlet eyes labeling her an albino.

His new dragon immediately climbed from its confines and propelled itself into his chest, snuggling into him happily. 'Do not fear little one. I will take care of you, for you are mine and I am your's', he assured the shivering baby in his arms softly as he stood and searched for some meat to feed the newborn.

 

********

Months passed in what seemed the blink of an eye and the beautiful brunette elf's dragon grew. He had given her the name Shiva after the goddess which made the snow fall. It seemed fitting for the dragon with scales the colour of fresh fallen snowflakes. She had grown huge in the time he had had her and could now converse with him and hunt on her own. Their journey would have to begin soon and so Squall prepared, though he was unsure where they were to go. No one, but the Riders of old knew where their keep was located and so he had no idea where to begin their search for it. He needed the guidance of the others in order to be of any use to them in the war which meant he had no choice, but to search for the Dragonskeep of legends. He was lost deep in thought as he played a soft melody on his flute, sitting on a thick branch in a large oak as Shiva circled about overhead.

Suddenly, her bright voice rang through his mind excitedly, 'Riders come!'

He did not need to be told twice and dropped from the tree gracefully, slipping the thin instrument into his belt as he awaited the approaching riders.

 

 

TBC....


	2. One: Fire and Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it begins...

One: Fire and Ice

 

Dragons roared overhead as gouts of flame scarred the azure skies. Curling black smoke marked the trail of the fight through the heavens. Claws raked upon steel as the two riders and dragons fought, grappling together, hacking with claws and swords before breaking apart, climbing higher to repeat their tumbling assaults.

The two large dragons tumbled through the air together, one sporting a deep indigo hide, the other being the colour of burnt umber. Both of the riders atop the dragons' backs were clad in metal armor matching their mounts' scales. The dragons slammed together again in mid air, plummeting towards the earth in a flurry of claws and fire. The riders flinging spells and counter spells, clashing swords whenever close enough to one another. The sound of their brawl echoed through the otherwise empty sky.

The dragons pulled apart, skimming along the tree line, their thick tails knocking branches from the trees beneath them as they strained to gain more altitude before the other, healing wounds as quickly as possible while they climbed higher.

The rider atop the indigo dragon wore a ornate, yet plainly designed full helm, soot staining the once gleaming metal. His emerald eyes watched his foe from within the darkness of the helm, enraged determination in the swirling depths. Plate metal and riding leather made up the armor he wore upon his body, all of it charred and stained from the fiery assaults of the dragons. He twisted his grasp on his long sword, bracing it with a steadier grip as he and his foe squared off in the sky. The indigo clad rider slipped out of the harness keeping him on his dragon's back, preparing for another intense attack that would hopefully end the battle.

Both dragons dove for one another, the indigo feinting at the last moment before they would collide and ducking down under the burnt umber underbelly of the other dragon. His rider ran along his dragon's spine, the powerful midnight body arching upwards as the rider jumped. His sword gleamed in the light, unlike his armour remained unmarred by the stains of battle. 'Kill the rider, kill the beast. Kill the beast, kill the rider' he repeated the mantra in his mind over and over as he made his attack. If he could get to the rider and slay him, his dragon would follow him soon into death.. His sword slammed into the leather guard on the flank of the dark dragon. Both rider and dragon gave a low growl from the abrupt pain. The emerald eyed rider pulled himself up onto the enemy dragon as it dove after the indigo hide of his own dragon. He gripped the armor plating hard and slowly crawled further up its back towards the rider seated there.

The dark rider flung spells over his shoulder, attempting to dislodge his unwanted passenger. Unable to turn in the constricting fastenings, he couldn't get clear aim of the indigo clad rider that was making his way closer. Securing himself where he was, the indigo rider straightened up and grasped his weapon with both hands before he plunged the sword between two of the armored plates lining the enemy dragon's back. Both rider and dragon howled in pain. He held onto the sword as the dragon pulled upwards, giving it a sharp twist as scalding blood gushed out of the wound. As the dragon began to spin, falling through the air, he gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, trying not to fall or lose his precious weapon. Much to his dismay the sword slowly came loose.

With a colourful curse that was lost to the winds, the indigo rider's sword slipped free from the dragon's back and he was thrown into the air. Then he was falling.

An indigo blur swooped down, snatching him from the air with a taloned claw. Bursts of flame showered the air as their enemy followed after them. In a quick move, the indigo dragon threw his rider behind himself and directly into the other rider and dragon. The dark rider could do little to dodge and the indigo rider put his weight behind the blow and the gleaming blood stained sword found its mark. The enemy rider toppled as the other crashed into him, unable to scream as the sword pierced through armour and straight through flesh. The dragon shrieked as the pain from his rider's fatal wound echoed through it. Its wings struggled to keep strength enough to remain airborne, body wracked with spasms as its life was taken along with its rider's. As the dark dragon began to fall from the sky, the indigo swooped down, plucking its rider from the back of the plummeting umber dragon. The twilight indigo dragon pushed his rider back towards one of the stirrups which he used to pull himself up and into his seat once again. He regarded the dying dragon motionlessly, jade depths hidden behind the visor. He pointed his dragon towards a visible clearing in the forestry below them.

*****

Seifer dropped his helm to the mossy ground with a heavy sigh, running one dirty hand through the sweat dampened and soot streaked blond of his hair. He growled beneath his breath as he built a small camp fire. Neither he nor his dragon spoke, verbally or telepathically. He pointed to the piled kindling with his sword, giving a muted grunt. A spark glimmered along the blade, the blood and soot being pushed away from the steel before the spark leaped into the camp fire, igniting it. He set the blade against a fallen log next to him and began pulling several things from his pack, preparing a simple meal of stew from rations he kept in the large leather pouch.

After several silent moments in which his rider moved about the makeshift camp and prepared his evening meal, the deep indigo dragon raised its head, golden eyes turning towards the foliage in the north. 'Another dragon comes.' came the first gruff rumbling words from large creature.

'Friend or foe?' Seifer replied, barely glancing up from what he was doing.

'Not sure, seems familiar. I shall go see.'

Seifer gave a mental grunt, acknowledging what his dragon had said. Emerald eyes stared into the dancing flames of the fire before him while he stretched back against the log behind him. As the dragon lumbered off into the thick foliage with little discretion, he gave his head a little shake, dirtied blond hair turning a burnt golden colour in the firelight. He began to systematically remove and polish each piece of his armour, wiping the precious metals clean of soot with water before using a warm oil from a pouch placed next to his left hip to properly polish the well used armour.

*****

Shiva moved in front of her rider protectively, the elf's long, pointed ears twitching as loud crashing was heard in the foliage just in front of them. The white dragon waited, her voice silent in Squall's mind, breaths caught as they awaited the approaching creature, on guard, but hopeful that the dragon and rider would be an ally and not an enemy.

When a fully grown, indigo scaled dragon crunched its way out of the forest, Shiva tilted her head, reaching out with her mind to speak to the only other of her kind that she had ever actually come into contact with since she had been born, her body curled around her own rider protectively.

'Where do your loyalties lie, dark one?' she questioned, crimson eyes bright and focused on the male dragon before her. The brunette elf peeked around her, taking in the larger dragon's form with cautious grey blue eyes. He hoped that it was not an enemy for he could not fathom his Shiva standing a chance of beating the other much larger creature.

 

The large dragon let a deep growl echo from within his broad chest, giving a statement of power, rather than hostility. It was rare to find another dragon, rarer still to find one that was so young as the female before him. Golden eyes roved over the pair, examining the pale female in the muted twilight of the forest. Eyes flicking from white scaled dragon to the elf shielded behind her. The battle scarred armour covering his hide, still stained with soot and blood glimmered in the half shadows with an almost ominous air as he watched the pair of youths before him. 

'My loyalties are of no threat to you, pale one,' the response was measured, calm and calculating in that same gruff tone that seemed to be natural to the large indigo dragon. The golden eyes settled upon the white dragon and stayed. 'And from your youth, and your... boldness to find another dragon I can assume that you have no loyalties; not to either side of the war. You should be thankful that it was I you met, and not any others, or a far worse fate would have befallen you,' the dragon paused, the golden eyes drifting to the beautiful Elfling behind her. 'Tell me, why are you wandering these parts?' He turned once again to the white dragoness, for the moment choosing to ignore the boy elf.

Shiva cocked her head, listening to the elder dragon as he spoke to her, Squall still unable to hear their words. When the dark dragon's gaze slid over her rider, she moved a little, curving herself around him more, even though the other dragon had said he meant no harm.

'I am not wandering. I live here with my rider. We've been waiting for others,' the albino explained quietly, crimson eyes watching the dark dragon's movements and reactions. 'Your armor... You also have a rider? Where is he?'

'He is away, likely tending to the fire. However, ask him his place, and he would claim a brother at arms before claiming to be a Rider,' the dragon stated, voice more mirthful than sombre. He paused briefly once again, appearing to study them intently, the mirth fading from the amber eyes. It seemed as though he was debating something, forcing himself to make a differing decision than he was meant to. Almost reluctantly, he spoke once more, voice carrying into the minds of both dragon and rider, 'Know this, follow me or not, that is your choice. It is unusual to find a dragon in the wild. I would not strip you of your innocence in the name of a war not your own.' His golden eyes focused on the two before him with a heavy seriousness in the slitted pupils, 'Follow me, and I shall take you to the home of the Dragon Flight, to the home of your ancestors, both rider and dragon.' The dark dragon seemed reluctant as though he was going against some deeper instinct or desire that was dear to him, pushing back life times of war, training and honor. He turned as if to leave, though his eyes glanced sidelong at the albino dragon. He wasn't entirely certain himself as to why he would ignore the mission he and his rider had been on for so many years, why he was willing to allow the pair the option to remain free of the binds that Dragonskeep would place upon them.

'I cannot say if this choice will be granted to you again; by my side or theirs. We are a dying breed, and I would not wish that one of our youngest be dragged into this age long feud only to be extinguished as we all will surely be in the end.' 

Shiva's pale head bobbed as she nodded to the elder dragon's words within her mind. Squall jumped slightly when the black dragon's voice reverberated through his mind, the gruff tone startling the young Elfling from his own thoughts. He looked at his dragon, concern in his stormy eyes. 'Should we trust him?' he questioned her, silvery blue gaze shifting and lingering upon the dark form of the seemingly retreating dragon.

Shiva turned her head towards her rider, scarlet eyes rolling to look at him as she considered the words that the older dragon had spoken.

'I don't think we need to fear him or his rider. It could not hurt to at least speak with them more and perhaps learn from them. Another chance like this may never come again,' she replied quietly after a moment of silence. The elder dragon had said as much when they'd spoken and she had an instinctive feeling that he was right, and that this was no meeting of chance, but one of destiny. She could see the unwavering trust in her rider's gaze and she knew he would agree without further argument. He would trust her words as she trusted his.

'Alright. Can you carry me?' he gave one curt nod of his head as he agreed before looking at the newly made saddle he had fashioned for her no more than a week before. She nodded and lowered her neck so that he could climb up onto her back. As soon as he was seated in the leather like saddle, she moved to follow the male dragon back the way he had come, grateful that his larger body had already cleared a path for them.

The indigo dragon glanced over one broad, winged shoulder as the albino followed him, a mix of feelings clashing within his mind. He was both excited and saddened by the pair's decision, but he didn't dare to dwell on either feeling as he led them back to the camp he and Seifer had made. After a few moments in which only the noise of their movements was heard, he decided to speak once more, 'It would be best if the choice that I presented to you was not mentioned to my rider, nor anyone else.' It was stated simply, though his tone suggested that should the event come to light, he would suffer for it.

'We'll not be long. I do not know if any witnessed our foe's death previously, nor do I know if any are aware of your presence, so we will not linger long here. An unmarked dragon such as yourself, bearing no coat of arms makes you a very sought after commodity,' the elder dragon explained gravely, trying to impart the seriousness of his words to the pair. Part of him wanted to tell the other dragon to leave, to scare her away by any means, to keep her safe. There were so few of their kind left and even fewer still with riders. She and her rider were the first that he knew of in the last three hundred years after he and Seifer had been found. The other half of him resisted, but not because of his duty to the Dragon Flight, but because it would be better for her to remain with the old ways of the riders than to drive her and her rider into the welcoming arms of the mad king. It would be the lesser of two evils, if only he could convince himself of that.

*****

As they continued on to the camp site, the dark dragon answered what questions the two asked with brief, empty responses, making it obvious that his mind was elsewhere. Still, he managed to give a brief explanation of their purpose; he and his rider were charged with tracking down the rogue riders, bringing them to justice as often as possible whilst they continued the previously fruitless search for new riders and allies. They were to find as many of those that would rally against the false king as they could and secure their loyalties and of course upon finding any dragons with or without rider, make haste in bringing them back to the elders of Dragonskeep.

*****

Seifer had finished cleaning and polishing his armour and now sat half clothed in singed leather and woolen flying gear, stirring the stew in the iron pot over the flames of his fire. Foresty eyes were unfocused in an almost trance as he stared without seeing into the embers beneath. His sword lay in its scabbard to his right, uncleaned as of yet. The broad blond rider barely heard the crunching of foliage through the haze of his thoughts, sparing only a glance as the indigo dragon made his way back into the clearing, leading a smaller albino dragon behind him. Seifer remained unmoved, nothing in his expression. He stood up, unfolding his body slowly as his gaze focused and he regarded both, emerald depths catching on the sight of a rider upon the pale dragon's back. He inclined his head ever so slightly, shifting his stance, certain that his sword never left his reach. He wore the ever present tense aura of a man used to war, not aggressive, but clearly resonating his dominant presence.

Squall looked the tall blond over, curiosity swirling in stormy eyes, taking in the tense aura around the other rider. The lithe brunette slid off of the albino dragon's back gracefully, cautious as Shiva stopped just inside the camp. He sucked his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth, unsure of what to say in greeting to the other rider. He stood awkwardly in front of his dragon, the fire pit separating him from the brawny human.

After several seemingly long moments, Seifer gave a near inaudible snort before he seated himself back down upon the log by his sword. 'We leave tomorrow,' he stated roughly to his dragon, turning to stir the stew once again. He motioned for the elf to take a seat with one large, dirty hand. There was little more in the clearing than moss, a few odd rocks and shrubs along with the fallen log that the blond sat upon. Brilliant green eyes looked passed the Elfling towards the riding harness strapped to the albino dragon's back, "You can fly, yes?"

As his rider gestured for the young elf to come close, the dark dragon continued passed the man and the fire pit, giving the white dragon more room. He surveyed the area briefly before opening his mouth, a deep reddish glow grew inside of the dragon before flames erupted from his maw. The liquid flame scorched the earth in a long semi circle around the man and the fire pit before abruptly cutting off, his forked tongue flicking out between obsidian teeth as he lay down on the burning earth, snuffing out any wayward flames as he warmed himself on the heated ground. He stretched out one huge, leathery wing, fresh gashes in the wing membrane allowing starlight to shine through. His deep indigo hide was riddled with scratches and scars, old and fresh wounds mottling the luminescent scales, each one a testament to an eon of fighting. The tears in the huge wings would be mostly healed by the morning with the accelerated healing of his kind and of course because of his rider's magic. The golden eyes of the dark dragon watched the fire idly, flicking back over to the albino with a bemused look every now and again.

Squall stumbled forward when Shiva pushed his back with her snout towards the man who had motioned for him to sit. The elf shot her an idle glare before going closer to the other rider and seating himself a few feet from him.

"We can fly," he replied quietly, an Elven accent colouring his words as he spoke. His stormy eyes wandered over the man and widened when he watched the dragon behind him shoot flames upon the ground before laying himself over the heated earth. The elf swallowed, looking back at his own dragon. He had yet to see her use fire for anything. He wondered idly if or when she would.

Having answered the other rider's only question, he stayed silent, uncertain of what he could say to the other man; no words seemed proper. He, himself had never been out of the Elven lands and had never seen battle, though he had seen the results of it. He didn't think he had the experience to converse with the man sitting mere feet from him. His long, pale fingers tapped on his thighs unconsciously, itching to move, to play the flute that was tucked beneath the belt at his waist, anything to break the silence.

Shiva grinned inwardly as she watched the elder dragon breath flames and her rider nearly jumped out of his skin at the startling sight. She stretched her smaller form along the cool earthy floor and curled her long tail around herself, watching the other three with interest.

"Good, we'll fly as slow as necessary for you," Seifer said after another long moment, jade eyes flicking over towards the albino dragon. It was obvious to him that she was still young and he figured her rider was likely young as well, though it was hard to tell with elves. He scratched at the soot and dried sweat in his hair idly. He needed to bathe, though he very much doubted he would get a chance now that he and Ifrit had come across such a pair. They were still a long ride away from home, longer still because of the albino dragon's youth.

He would have to begin training the boy on the wing. He needed to ascertain how much the elfling knew of the war and of the riders. Seifer's gaze raked over the lithe brunette with more interest than he cared to admit, something long since buried inside of him waking. The youth was certainly beautiful as was common with the Elven race, but there was something else about him that was alluring, something Seifer forced himself not to analyze any further. He seemed young even for his kind and Seifer wondered if he knew how to use the weapon at his hip. The blond knew little about the elves aside from the few lines he'd read from one book or another. There weren't any other Elven riders that he knew of personally, though there had been in the past and he wasn't sure how much the elves taught their children since the days when they had closed their borders against the war. He had to assume that the Elfling had at least the most basic of training and that he could use the bow he carried well enough being that he had been surviving on his own with his dragon, though Seifer had to wonder what arrows he had, not seeing a quiver to match the long, intricately designed bow.

"What's your name?" Seifer asked abruptly, interrupting his own thoughts as he suddenly realized he had forgotten the most basic of introductions. It had been far too many years since he had last had to hold polite conversation with anyone. He realized belatedly that he had not even bothered to ask if the boy was truly willing to join the cause.

The dark dragon gave a rumbling chuckle as he glanced between the riders and then over towards the albino dragoness. 'You'll have to forgive him. He is not known for his manners,' he stated, a smirk hidden in his mental voice as the impassive inclined his head towards the pair by the fire.

Shiva chuckled in response, the sound rumbling in her chest as she bobbed her head in acknowledgement of the other dragon's words. 'My rider will probably be more than a hand full for him. He's rather hardheaded, young as he is for his race,' she replied after a moment, crimson gaze sliding over the two as they spoke.

The elf felt his face flush at the other male's comments, embarrassed by his own lack of knowledge concerning his dragon and the war he was going to become a part of. It wasn't really his fault. He had been trained in using weaponry, the bow across his back and light, Elven made sword at his hip were testament to that, but he lacked the experience of battle that the other obviously had. He looked down at his hands, pointed ears burning. He could feel the other rider's eyes on him and it was doing nothing to disperse his embarrassment.

"Squall," he replied quietly, feeling even more embarrassed that he had neglected to introduce himself or his dragon, "And that's Shiva." He gestured to his dragon, looking at the other male from beneath long, dark lashes.

The blond man nodded. "Seifer and his name is Ifrit," he replied in kind, glancing towards the dragon in question before looking back into fire. "The stew will be ready shortly," he stated rather than conversed, observing the steam rising from the thickening broth.

"As he no doubt informed you, we fight against the false king," the soot streaked rider paused, using a stick to prod the fire, making embers rise high into the night, "So tell me, why are you here?" 

*****

Ifrit's eyes flicked back over to the albino dragon, regarding her coolly despite the waves of heat that emanated from the ground around him. It was obvious that he was thinking about her, curious about her story, how she had come to be in this place and found her rider. Something seemed to click inside of his mind, but he remained silent, choosing to not give voice to the little flame of hope that had suddenly come to life inside of his chest. Instead, he simply observed the pale dragon and her rider.

 

The elf pushed dark strands of soft hair back behind his ears as he made himself a little more comfortable, trying to push the earlier embarrassment to the back of his mind. He looked at Seifer and smiled very slightly as the blond made what could only be an invitation to join him in his meal, though the smile faded as quickly as it had come when Seifer asked why they had come.

"We've decided to fight against him as well," he stated solemnly, conviction in his words. It was what he had agreed to do when he'd taken charge of Shiva's egg and he would keep his word. They had been waiting a long time already for a rider to find them and guide them, though he didn't tell Seifer that.

"Do you not know in which lands you've landed?" he questioned as the man asked why they were in this place.

"Honestly? No. Our last fight pushed us over the mountains and into these forests," Seifer motioned haphazardly in a westward direction, "But judging from the trees, the climate and the animals in the area, I would say we were pushed into the Elven lands." Seifer assumed he was pretty close if not spot on with his observations, and really considering Squall was an elf and had been in the area already, it seemed to be a pretty astute observation.

 

"It's good that you're willing to fight, although I can't say that you should. Never the less, it's going to be a long journey back to Dragonskeep."

Squall nodded, "I must fight. I promised," he said, but didn't elaborate on it further, "Mm, you are in our lands, that is why I am here and Shiva is here with me. How long will it take us to get to the other riders?" he continued, voice calmer than it had been before. He was beginning to feel at ease with the other, strange as it was, there was a sense of trust for the muscular blond, as though he'd known him for a long time already.

*****

Shiva closed her eyes, laying her head on the ground. 'Is there something interesting?' she questioned the elder dragon, feeling his gaze on her.

Ifrit arched an eyeridge at the albino when she spoke though her eyes were closed. He gave a toothy smile, 'There is something that I am curious about. Almost all breeding pairs and their eggs that I know of are held either at Dragonskeep, or have fallen into the hands of the False king and they are but a few,' he paused briefly, 'I will not press for an answer if you do not wish to give it. I was merely thinking,' Ifrit continued politely. He was quiet for several seconds, almost considering himself rude. 'Are you able to cast the flame yet?' he asked, quickly changing the subject in case he had offended the opalescent dragoness.

Shiva looked at Ifrit with one scarlet eye, the other remaining closed. 'My kin were in hiding from both good and corrupt riders when they were discovered. My guardian managed to escape with only my egg and came here where I met my rider,' she explained quietly, pausing when he questioned her ability to breathe the flame that their kind were so known for, 'No, I have yet to breathe flame.'

'My apologizes,' he stated, a hint of solemnness in his rough voice. He shifted on the ground idly. 'You're going to have to learn soon then,' he continued, golden eyes watching the female dragon as he spoke to her, 'Especially if you plan on fighting.' The dragon shifted once again, fidgeting. 'Although, you still have plenty of time, young one.'

Seifer gave a tired stretch, cracking his neck. "A month's ride, if I was alone," he said after a moment, "We'll take longer." Emerald glanced towards the sword at the elf's side with curious interest, "What training do you have?" He cocked his head to the side, strands of stiff blond hair falling into his eyes. "I'll probably have to train you along the way," he explained with a soft tone of exasperation in his voice, still watching the elfling from beneath the wayward strands of his hair. He was not looking forward to travelling through the King's lands, even less so now that he had to keep care of the new rider and his dragon, unfortunately it was the quickest way to get back to the keep.

"I am trained, but not to fight on dragonback, " Squall replied quietly, fingering the elegant silver hilt of the sword at his right hip. "I will try not to slow us too much. I would like to learn more about the riders and about the Dragonskeep; that is what it's called isn't it?" he asked curiously, stormy eyes brightening at the prospect of learning about the legendary place.

"Dragonskeep, home of the flight of dragons," Seifer explained, giving a lazy gesture with one hand, "Last bastion of Riders against the False King," he smiled at the words, though it held a bitterness to it that he could not fully hide. "Home of Riders, Dragons, and the Elders, at least what's left of them." He glanced once more to the west, though he could see little through the dark foliage and the low light of evening. "What else do you wish to know?"

"How many other riders are there? Are there other new riders like me? Will they be happy you've found me?" the brunette questioned, obviously getting excited at the prospect of being told more about the mythical place and the life there that awaited him.

Seifer gave a small smile that did not reach his eyes. "The elders will certainly be happy," he assured the younger male before he made a soft sound in his throat, "Like you? As in recently found?" His smile faded as the weight of the question made something deeply buried inside him twist painfully. "You're the first new recruit in, at least three hundred years," he finally admitted, voice thick with emotion he couldn't completely cover up, "Sadly there are very few of us. About eight score who fight for our side. I do not know how many have been persuaded to join the other." He did not want to lie to the boy. He glanced behind him, gazing at the dragons distractedly as he collected his thoughts, before shaking his head. They were doing dragon stuff. It was rather obvious how Ifrit felt about the new dragon they'd found. He hated that he would have to remind the dark dragon not to get his hopes up about her, just as he reminded himself that he shouldn't allow himself to unbind that buried hope deep within him just because Squall had appeared.

"So long..." the beautiful elf echoed softly, "Is it true that riders have soulbonded mates?" he questioned after a moment, worried about himself now that he had heard how long it had been since a new rider had appeared. Did that mean he would have no soulmate unlike the others? The thought made him depressed; with such a long lifespan, it would be a lonely existence.

Silvery blue watched the tall blond man with earnest curiosity. There was so much he didn't know, so much Seifer could tell him and the other riders too once he met them, he hoped.

"They do," Seifer answered after a long silence, jade staring unfocused into the glowing embers at the bottom of the fire. "Both dragons and their riders become a bonded pair. The old myths are all true. Our lifespans lengthen to match that of our dragons and if they are killed, we will not be long to last and vice versa. We mate for life with one who holds the missing pieces of our soul as do our dragons," the blond's voice was quiet, bitter as he spoke, hurt colouring his words as he looked up at the elf, barely concealed anguish swimming in the deep forest depths. He took in a breath and swallowed before he seemed to reign in whatever tumultuous emotions the conversation brought up. "They are as true are the tales of the last dragons and their war. Old stories of glory and honour, long since forgotten in the war torn human lands over the last three hundred years," Seifer shook his head with a heavy sigh, "But, it won't be long before the false king is slain." His finishing words sound hollow as if he had been trained to say them.

 

*****

'It is the past...' the pale dragon sighed sadly, closing her eyes once more before opening them both to look at her dark counterpart. 'How shall I learn then?' she questioned curiously, eager to learn her own skills as much as her young rider.

'I shall teach you as best I can, white one,' Ifrit smiled, raising his head and looking over at Shiva, 'It's easy once you know, but, hard to learn.' He simply breathed for a moment, his broad chest expanding with each breath before a deep glow began to emanate within. The dark dragon spat a small gout of fire, more liquid than flame. It smoldered on the ground before extinguishing. He followed again with another bout of flame. A large billowing cloud that illuminated the clearing. 'Simply search within for that place where you can feel the magic in you and release it. Let's see what can you do.'

Shiva watched the other dragon carefully before she mimicked him, closing her eyes to concentrate better, reaching inside herself for the place that should hold a dragon's fire, but she could feel no heat resonating there, only frigid cold. She grasped onto it regardless and opened her mouth to release to freezing energy. Liquid spewed forth, turning to ice upon contact with the earth, creating a crystal like ridge along the ground, sharp like the razor edge of a dagger.

She opened her eyes, the scarlet depths widening impossibly, shocked by what was there in front of her. 'What is this?' she questioned in confusion, staring at the trail of dangerous looking ice before her.

Ifrit looked almost a surprised as the pale dragon, his golden eyes intent on the ice that had come from within her. It took him a moment or two to find his voice. 'I had not expected you to pick it up so quickly. Nor had I expected one to be an Ice Breather. I suppose, it fits.' he finally said with a toothy smile, 'I cannot say I have ever met one before. You are indeed unique even among our rare kind. Ice breathers are the stuff of legends.' His smile widened, amber eyes trailing down to the icy patch of ground once again. 'Still, I am impressed that you could breathe anything at all. It took me far longer to learn how to spit my first fireball. Most I could do was singe Seifer for several weeks.'

'I wasn't expecting it myself, but it makes sense to me now. The cold does not bother me. What kind of dragon does that make me?' Shiva wondered idly, not really asking the other dragon, but thinking aloud. She wanted to tell Squall about her new found talent, but when she looked at him, she couldn't interrupt his conversation with the other rider. She'd never seen him so friendly with anyone before. He had always kept to himself with his own people and he always seemed to be awkward around them. He'd only ever really spoken with her. She smiled inwardly, glad to see him opening up to the other man.

'How long will we rest here? Until morning?' she questioned after a few moment's watching her rider, turning her gaze back to the dark dragon across from her.

Ifrit followed the snowy dragon's gaze towards the riders, watching them idly, 'Since there is little chance of a threat, we'll likely stay here the entire night and travel by day. When we travel through the false king's land, we'll reverse. Travel by night so as not to be seen.' He craned his neck upwards, looking at the stars through the opening in the trees above them. "If we are attacked, you are to fly higher, into the clouds.You'll blend in."

He arched an eye ridge as his sensitive hearing picked up the threads of the riders' conversation. The concept of the soulbonded. Loneliness was something that he and his rider had come to accept as their fate. Three hundred long years alone. That's not to say that they had gone without lovers, merely relationships were cold and hollow, lacking the deeper heat and comfort of the one that held the missing pieces of their souls. He found his thoughts wandering towards the albino dragon. The implication of her and her rider's appearance and what it could mean for himself and Seifer had crossed his mind. The white dragon was young still, but beautiful and her rider was not unattractive to Seifer, Ifrit could tell, and it had been so very long. There was a chance that the pair were exactly what they had spent centuries waiting for. Inwardly he shook his head, dispelling the hopeful musings. He would not expect anything.   
Squall was confused by the other rider's words. It seemed there was bitterness there, but he wasn't sure why, unaware that Seifer had been the last rider to enter the ranks at Dragonskeep and that he was the only rider that had no soulbonded mate for over three centuries. "In my home, they talk of riders like rare treasures that have long since gone extinct. I was afraid I'd never find any of you," he paused, nibbling on a rosy bottom lip, "I'm glad that you stumbled upon me," he finished awkwardly with a blush, though he couldn't be sure why he blushed at all, embarrassed by his own words to the roguish blond. Seeking distraction, he glanced at his dragon and grinned proudly, seeing the ice trail on the ground. It mattered little to him if Shiva breathed fire or if she breathed ice, though the ice seemed to suit her better.

Seifer paused, glancing up and directly at Squall, seeing the elf in the fire light for what seemed like the first time since he had entered the clearing on his white dragon's back. "Blame luck kid," he stated after a drawn out pause in which he simply stared at the other male, emerald gaze lingering over the fine features, "You should get some rest, we're going to cover a lot of sky in a few hours." He reached behind him, pulling out a rolled up bedroll and tossing it over the fire towards the other.

 

Shiva's opal head bobbed in understanding in response to Ifrit's previous words. 'The clouds will suit me just fine. May I ask...' she trailed off as she watched her young rider conversing with the elder blond man, 'Did something happen to you and rider's bonded? There is sadness in his eyes when he speaks to my rider...' Her voice was quiet, respectful and curious as she watched over the two riders before turning her crimson gaze back to the dragon across from her.

 

Ifrit hesitated in his response to the lovely white dragon's inquiry. Conversations played out in his mind. He could tell her that he and his rider were not bonded. When they made it back to Dragonskeep, Squall and Shiva would surely find out that they were the only new non-bonded pair to be found in the last three hundred years and that Seifer and he were the only other pair found before that. Any unbonded previous to Seifer and Ifrit had been slain during the coup by the false king. Knowing that there was little chance of ever having what all the others in the keep had, they had resigned themselves to loneliness, silently pitied by any who knew of their fate.

 

'I...' he began, cringing inwardly, unable to say the words that were the truth. Maybe ignorance would be best, at least for the time being. There would be no expectations, no false hopes. He didn't want her or her rider to feel as though they were obligated in any way. But what if this was the only chance for what could be? He closed his eyes and steeled himself. He would be patient. Time would tell.

 

'Alot of dragons died during these past centuries,' he began solemnly, laying his head down on the ground. Some sense of chivalry told him to lie to her or at the least simply not tell her anything too revealing about he and his rider; he did not want her to think they had selfish motives for helping the pair. He glanced off towards the forest momentarily before the sound of his rider's voice broke into his thoughts once more, providing him the perfect excuse to end the painful conversation. 'Seifer is right, we should get some rest. Tomorrow will be long and arduous,' he finished, abruptly cutting the previous flow of conversation short.

*****

Squall nodded, acknowledging Seifer's words as he caught the bedroll that was tossed to him. "Thank you," he said gratefully, standing and moving with an unconscious grace away from the fire towards Shiva who spread her left wing for him so he could place the bedroll next to her side and curl up beneath the protective shelter of her large white wing.

"Goodnight Seifer, Ifrit," he said quietly, before curling his body against his dragon's side, her wing coming down over him and blocking him from sight. He sighed softly and ran smooth fingertips over the tiny veins running through her wing membrane, an action that she rather enjoyed.

*****

'You're right. Thank you for finding us. We will talk more in the morning, Goodnight Ifrit,' the snowy dragoness said before turning to nod at the blond rider who was still seated by the fire. She then laid her head down, curling herself around the elf safely tucked beneath her wing, cradling him gently and humming softly as he tickled the inside of her wing.

'They are good, brave, I think and wise. You'll have much to learn from Seifer,' she spoke softly in Squall's mind, keeping their conversation private between the two of them.

Squall smiled with his eyes closed, more tired than he'd originally thought, his belly full from the stew he didn't remember eating as he and Seifer had spoken. 'I agree. I saw the ice you breathed earlier. I didn't know there were dragons that could breathe anything but fire,' he replied, a playful, proud lilt to the tone of his mental voice.

'Ifrit said I was the first he'd ever come in contact with or heard of outside of legends. We are a unique pair, aren't we?'

'More so than you think Shi, Seifer said we're the first pair in three centuries to be rider and dragon.'

'Yes. Ifrit mentioned something along those lines as well. They are a lonely pair. There is pain in their past, I think.'

The stormy-eyed elf merely nodded against her side and furled closer to her with a soft sigh, 'Our new lives will begin in a few short hours Shi. I hope we will not disappoint your sires. Tomorrow promises to bring serious new trials. Goodnight Shiva.'

The opal dragon smiled, with her scarlet eyes closed against the light of the fire and their new companions, 'Yes, the new day will certainly be different from what we're used to. But you needn't worry, I'll protect you with my life. Goodnight sweet boy.' The elf barely heard her words, already falling into slumber.

Seifer stayed up long after the young pair had drifted off, unable to find solace in the peace of sleep himself. He used a thick stick to prod the fire, releasing hundreds of glimmering embers into the night as his thoughts rolled over one another.

 

'Must we bring them back?' Ifrit's gruff voice cut clear through the night and Seifer's thoughts, startling the broad rider though he gave no outward sign of it.

 

'We have orders.'

 

'Yes but--' 

 

'There's no sense in arguing Ifrit. We've no choice and it's better they be trained to survive than become an untrained casualty or worse,' Seifer cut his dragon's words off in his mind, interrupting him with his own, a painful finally to what he said before they fell silent once again. Neither of them approached the topic of bonding, unable to quash, nor build on the fragile hope that had flared in the both of them. Both of them knew their fate; a long life, riddled with scars for both dragon and rider, hope would only lead to disappointment.

 

 

TBC...


	3. Two: Painful Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yes, just took half a life time and the promise of my first born...."

Two: Painful Escape

 

 

It was a short time before dawn, the eastern sky already brightening from midnight to soft predawn grey. Seifer had already packed up the camp, supplies and bedding rolled and tucked away in the large packs on Ifrit’s back. Using a simple spell to cover their tracks, the clearing looked much as it had upon their arrival. The spell would hide them from the untrained eye and allow them to be on their way unhindered. The use of his innate magic in simply spreading the ash into the wind and stirring the plants to regrow upon the soil had made an old war wound twinge in discomfort. The tall blonde rider shrugged off the unpleasant ache, refusing to rub at his chest as if the wound were still fresh.

 

He set about double checking all of the harness ties and securing the packs on Ifrit’s back as the dragon slowly woke up. Seifer pressed a scarred hand against the midnight dragon’s side, reassuring his companion of his presence and reminding himself that the dragon was still there; they’d survived yet another battle. He picked up his sword from its leaning position against the moss-covered log and strapped the holstered blade to his back once again, the heavy weight of its protection allowing the ever tense muscles in the broad back to relax. He strode over towards the sleeping elf and snowy dragon, intent on waking the pair. Seifer rolled his neck in the half plate armor, working out kinks from the previous night’s rest before gently nudging the sleeping dragon.

 

"Time to go," he stated roughly, green eyes narrowing on the pale hide as he waited for her to wake.

 

Crimson eyes blinked open abruptly, oval pupils thinning to tiny slits in the brightening light of dawn. Shiva blinked double lids as she stretched her neck, looking over her shoulder at the other rider and his dragon, nodding her greeting.

 

She lifted one opalescent wing and nudged her rider with her scaly snout. ‘Time to wake Squall,’ she whispered into his mind. Stormy grey-blue eyes opened immediately, long lashes fluttering as her rider woke.

 

‘Morning Shiva,’ his voice was husky from sleep even in his mind. Squall smiled softly and sat up, stretching before moving to stand, the white dragon folding her wing back out of his way as he re-rolled the borrowed bedding. He held it out towards the other rider.

 

"Morning Seifer, Ifrit. Thank you," he greeted, thanking the other rider gratefully once more for the bedding, looking a little sheepish. The other man looked as if he hadn't slept and the young elf felt guilty, thinking that perhaps he had unknowingly stolen Seifer's bed. He tried not to look at the other rider too much, curious about his scars and about his life which had obviously been long and was likely filled with many stories.

 

"You're welcome," Seifer replied as politely as he could manage as he took the bedroll from the youth, tying it up on Ifrit’s harness where the other packs were already secured. The tall human climbed up onto his dragon deftly, one hand holding onto his full helm as he situated himself. His sharp emerald gaze scanned over the clearing, making certain the spell had done its work.

 

Having given the bedroll back, Squall went to Shiva's side, sliding the leather harness onto her back and tightening the straps, making sure the saddle was secure. They had a long journey ahead of them.

 

Finished checking over the straps and securing whatever supplies he'd brought with him, Squall slid his bow into place along his back, the taught string crossing his slim chest with comfortable familiarity and clasped his sword at his hip before turning to the others. "Which direction will we be heading first?" he questioned, brushing his lengthy hair up into a ponytail and tying it off with a leather binding from his left wrist, wisps of dark chestnut hair framing his face and dancing idly in the slight breeze.

 

"We fly along the easterlies. Before hitting Moracca, we'll head south and make camp just before nightfall," Seifer directed in response, motioning further east. Thick fingers tied the metal helm to Ifrit’s harness, the broad rider choosing to ride lightly armored for the time being. He would have to be able to keep watch for both himself and the others which required full range of vision. "Just follow our lead."

 

Ifrit stretched dark wings, flexing the muscles before tensing up in preparation for takeoff. He glanced over at the albino dragon, casting a somewhat scrutinizing gaze over her smaller form. ‘Try to focus on gliding, there'll be plenty of thermals,’ he stated, attempting to be helpful in a semi awkward tone. After a long moment, he turned his gaze away from the pale dragon and back up towards the tree line. In a sudden gust from monstrous wings, he lifted himself upwards; over the trees, his large wingspan easily catching the now exposed winds and carrying him higher up. His wings inflated with every downbeat, pulling himself higher and higher towards the east. He craned his neck around, making certain that the other dragon and rider were following.

 

Squall gave a bare nod in acknowledgement of Seifer’s words and moved to pull himself onto Shiva's back gracefully. Bowed lips upturned slightly, he ran a gentle hand over the smooth leather as he made himself comfortable in the saddle. Her back shuddered in response and he heard her laughter echo in his mind. He shook his head and ignored her humour. It was the longest flight they had ever thought to take; he had a right to be a little excited.

 

The dark haired elf breathed in deeply, savouring the scent of the forest around him with his eyes closed. Sensitive, pointed ears twitched as he heard the others preparing to leave and he opened his eyes to watch them take off, amazed at the grace with which such a large dragon could take off. He stared after them before the smaller opal dragon reared back and launched into the air after the other two, jostling him in his seat and he had to grasp the saddle hard and press himself flat on the albino's back as she leapt into the air and up through the trees in pursuit of the dark dragon and rider to the east.

 

\----

 

Ten days of travel, long hours of flying and dwindling supplies, Seifer had been putting off stopping to resupply for as long as possible. He did not want to spend any time in the Hamar kingdom, but still part of their journey took them through it. It was the fastest path, riding along the southern winds. Other than their current route, they would be forced to fly low to avoid the northerlies either side of the narrow passage in the weather which would be more likely to have them spotted by scouts of the king. Without the new rider and dragon, he and Ifrit would have been able to bypass the rest of the kingdom before being forced to stop for supplies, but as it was, they’d had to resort to hunting for the past few days, their lack of supplies making it necessary in order to carry on and slowing the entire journey. Both Ifrit and Shiva needed a cow or similar creature to satisfy them and though Squall ate much less than the brawny human, they would not be able to carry on at a pace Seifer was happy with if they did not restock supplies.

 

Grudgingly, the tall rider motioned for them to descend towards a small village in the centre of a shielded valley. Hopefully it would be far enough away from prying eyes and not been taken over by loyalists. Still, if that were the case, they could pose as scouts for the Hamar legion as long as no one questioned too deeply into the presence of the white dragon.

 

Ifrit flew closer to the other pair as Seifer shouted over the wind, cupping calloused hands around his mouth, "Remember, not a word of who we are, or where we're going. Just act like you're better than everyone down there and things should go smoothly." As soon as the words were swallowed by the wind, Ifrit folded his wings in, plummeting downwards to cover ground quickly. Several hundred feet above the quickly approaching ground, he slowly spread the large appendages, slowing the descent and aiming for the other side of a hillock, away from the wary eyes of any villagers.

 

The indigo dragon landed gracefully in spite of his bulk and Seifer slid out of the saddle onto the ground almost instantly. They would look out of place enough armoured and armed; it would be best not draw any unnecessary attention to the dragons. The valley basin was rocky, but foliage was sparse. To a casual glance it would be easy to mistake still dragons for off colored rocks from above and it was the best they could manage for the time being. Hopefully any scouts in the area wouldn’t be combing the land for dragons. Seifer had faith that the two dragons would be safe enough as the king hadn’t sent rangers to search out new dragons in the area for at least the last fifty years or so. The blond rider fished out a coin purse from one of the many pockets on the saddle bags as he waited for Squall.

 

Shiva had followed closely as they made to land, making ground several feet from the larger dragon. The elf slid from her back as soon as they were on solid ground, stretching his cramped limbs and groaning softly at the stiffness from days of riding on his dragon's back. He was looking forward to the supply run even if it was dangerous.

 

Squall stood in front of the white dragon, rubbing the knuckles of his right hand over her smooth nose affectionately. ‘Maybe you can find something to eat in the glade over there, a deer or something. Just be careful and don't stray too far in case we must leave quickly,’ he suggested over the link they shared mentally. He smiled at her as she closed her eyes, leaning into the petting of his hand.

 

‘Of course. Be safe,’ she replied and he nodded before turning away from her and stepping closer to Seifer, his steps silent and graceful.

"I'm ready. Shall we go?"

 

Seifer gave a curt nod before leading the way towards the dusty road into the village, waiting until they were somewhat farther down the path before slowing and looking the youth over intently. "Ears behind your hair," he commanded quietly, gaze still trained on the brunette next to him, "If pushed, you'll be treated better as a woman than an elf." His voice left no room for argument.

 

He glanced up towards the sky, scanning the air above; not even a bird crossed his sight, the large, fluffy clouds providing decent cover overhead. "They probably won't give you trouble. Sword means you fight for your keep. None of these farm hands could be mistaken for a professional," Seifer said after a moment, something within pressing him to smooth over the gruff demand he’s made previously. He raised a golden brow as he glanced towards the elf once again, making certain the boy had heard his words. "Any questions? We can likely get a bath and stew at the tavern once we pay for our goods," he added as an afterthought; it was clear he could use a good scrub down, none too keen on the gritty feel of his skin from the long days of travel.

Squall blinked in confusion as he took in the other rider’s words. He knew that the king wasn't fond of his race, but growing up in the heart of the Elf lands, he'd never had to hide his heritage before and he wasn’t certain if he should be insulted that Seifer suggested he portray himself as a woman. Without argument, he pulled the tie from his hair and shook the strands out, letting them fall in front of his ears. He pulled a strip of deep purple silk from the belt at his waist and tied it around his hair, effectively covering the pointed appendages and adding to the image that he was indeed a member of the fairer sex. He looked at the other male for approval after adjusting his makeshift bandanna. Seifer gave a slight nod, satisfied that the androgynous elf would be easily accepted as female.

"Mm, will my accent be too obvious or will the townspeople not realize it?" Squall questioned awkwardly after a moment, blushing for drawing attention to the way in which he spoke.

"They'll know your foreign, but not from where," Seifer answered as he made his way further along the winding path to the road. Wooden planks had been shoved down into the path to create a long stairway and stop the loose soil from washing away, which made travel along the crumbling incline much easier for the pair. Occasionally, his armor clinked where two of the metal pieces in the reinforced leather made contact as he led the way. "Most have only heard what King Lazarus has told them of Elves, none of it good. Three hundred years of indoctrination does that to people. If someone finds out about your heritage, you come straight to me. Do not stop and do not hesitate to fight if need be," he continued as they moved. He was trying to cover all his bases; there was no telling how the farmers would act upon their arrival let alone if they were to be made aware of the boy’s race. He did not want to bring the boy into this mess, but he had little choice. About two centuries back, he had been forced to watch an entire family of Elves be put to the torch and he had no desire to witness the same of the young rider. "Just stay quiet and follow my lead and we should get in and out without any problems."

\----

 

Ifrit watched the odd pair head down the path towards the human village through narrowed eyes until they reached the road before he turned his attention to Shiva. ‘What does your elf know of humans?’ he asked, his sense of idle curiosity pressing the inquiry from him, his tone holding a hint of humour.

The opal dragon looked at the dark male with bright eyes. ‘Seifer’s the first he's met. He only knows what his education dictated to him in the elf lands,’ she replied, wondering if her rider's limited experience with the human race would cause any awkwardness for the two while in the human village. She hoped it wouldn't make them seem too out of place among the villagers.

‘Why do you ask?’ she questioned curiously, scarlet depths taking in the larger form of the other dragon.

Ifrit glanced down the path towards the village thoughtfully. ‘Humans are a short lived race, but given to strong passions, often times violent. As of now, very xenophobic. That was not always the case, but, they are easily mislead," he admitted almost guiltily, ‘They'll be fine I’m sure. In this small village, they will most likely be alright, but any larger and there would be trouble." He sniffed the air lightly, tendrils of smoke escaping from his nostrils.

‘Such fickle beings. I am glad that my rider turned out to be of the Elven race, though I mean no offense to you or Seifer,’ the albino said in reply. Humans seemed so uncivilized from the way Ifrit spoke of them, like sheep, easily led and easily killed.

‘Shall we hunt?’

\----

 

Seifer’s words made Squall uneasy, but he nodded in understanding. He would do as the other man had said. ‘Perhaps if approached, I'll simply feign being a woman as Seifer suggested. That might be the easiest,’ he thought to himself as he followed the armored rider towards the town. With his pale, unblemished skin, long hair and sharp, effeminate features that were so common for his race, it would not be difficult to portray himself as a woman. He sighed softly, not exactly thrilled by the prospect, but understanding the necessity of such a disguise. "What supplies do you want me to get?" he asked after a moment, assuming they would split up to retrieve the items needed more quickly.

The blond rider paused at the entrance of the village, palming the elf four heavy coins wrapped in two pieces of paper. "Give this writ to the general store, and this to the butcher. I'll speak with the elder to buy two heads of cattle," Seifer directed as he glanced around the village, pointing out the two stores in question. "Should be around two coins each, half now, half when we get the goods," he stated distractedly. He gestured with one large hand to the town centre where the old tavern sat, "I'll be in there, but meet me in the Inn." The inn was located just a few buildings to the left of the tavern he’d pointed out, some festering building called The Rat in the Pot. The weather beaten sign depicted some odd ugly animal in a cauldron. Both the writs he’d handed to the boy seemed to contain unrecognizable symbols rather than actual words, odd symbols with rough hashes written next to them that Squall had never seen before. Obviously, it was some sort of trader tongue to make up for the rampant illiteracy.

Squall accepted the offered money and slips of paper, not understanding the symbols at all. He didn't think they were words of any language he'd ever seen, but he trusted the other rider’s knowledge of the human village. "Alright, I'll meet you at the inn," he agreed before bidding the other man farewell with a wave as he sauntered off with unconscious grace, wintery eyes wide as he took in everything around him, not noticing the curious whispers of the townsfolk as he passed by them, unaware that his appearance and that of his companion in armor was causing such a stir.

He stopped at both stores and made the arrangements before he made his way back towards the tavern and inn. He hummed quietly to himself as he walked.

As he was about to enter the inn, a firm grip on his slight wrist stopped him, the leather of his wrist guards digging into his skin. "Well aren't you a pretty little thing," a gravelly voice spoke close to him. He turned his face away from the grizzled man who smelled heavily of liquor. He swallowed and tried to jerk his wrist free from the unexpected grip.

"Sir, it would be best if you unhanded me," he warned quietly, trying to sound more intimidating than he felt. The man holding his arm simply grinned at him. Stormy eyes narrowed as the grip remained firm on his wrist and the other man ignored his words of warning.

"Nothing to be worried about sweetling, let me buy you a drink," he breathed against Squall’s neck, making the youth shudder in disgust as the human sidled closer and tried to maneuver an arm around the reluctant elf.

"I don't want to resort to using force sir. I have business to attend to and I'd really rather not have a drink with you," he warned, palming the hilt of his sword at his hip with his other hand, trying desperately to remain polite through gritted teeth.

The man's face changed from desire to anger quickly. "You foreigners are all the same, thinking you're better than the lot of us. You better watch out. Pretty thing like yourself traveling alone... Shouldn't go around with such an attitude. Just lookin' for trouble, you are," he threatened, before finally letting go of the brunette, pushing by him roughly.

The elf shook his head at the man’s parting words, feeling edgy as he entered the inn, immediately looking around for Seifer. It seemed that once the other was present, he would feel much more at ease. He hadn’t been expecting to be approached at all and now that he had, he felt distinctly uncomfortable in the small human village. He sat down at a table and waited, unsure how long the other rider would be before they'd meet up once again.

Seifer heaved a disgruntled sigh as he finally left the tavern that served as the town hall after what seemed like an eon of negotiating over the price of two cows, taking all his patience to settle the arrangement. It was obvious the elder was stalling, probably trying to coax him into staying the night and spending more coin than he intended, which meant the cattle would be coming in much later than he would have preferred. At least they would get them before nightfall. They could not remain in the village, though a warm bed sounded far too nice to the tall rider; it was wiser to spend the night outside.

Seifer glanced around the suddenly deserted street and shook his head, assuming the townsfolk were busy gossiping; in such a small village, it was likely they did not get many travellers passing through. He walked towards the inn with long strides. Opening the creaking door with a tired sigh, forest eyes searched out the elf, not failing to take notice of a few too long glances towards Squall. Rubbing a calloused hand over his face, Seifer held in another long suffering sigh. The elf was probably the prettiest 'girl' the sheltered villagers had ever seen. He walked over towards the table, ignoring the whispers that followed his progress. Sitting down and running a hand through his short blond hair roughly, he was about to speak when almost immediately a serving girl set upon them.

"What can Oi git chya?" she spoke in a thick accent, watery brown eyes lingering on him a little too long for comfort.

 

"Two cider, meals and a bath,” the handsome rider stated, tossing a small coin into her hand, while ignoring her appreciative gaze. She seemed incredibly thankful as she slipped the coin into the tattered pocket of the stained apron she wore.

"Right. We got pork, beef, or chicken, and stew, mash, pie." Pie was probably the least deadly on the menu.  
"Pie. Drinks first, bath then food," he said, his eyes trained on the silent elf seated across from him.

"Ah Thalen for the lot, Thalen an' a three quart for 'awt wa'er."

Seifer handed over nine misshapen coins without another word. The portly woman grinned and hurried away.

"How long did they say until they'd have everything prepared for our departure?" he asked once the barmaid had bustled away from their table, his tone hushed as he addressed the elf; it was obvious he disliked this unclean village living. Dirt seemed to be ingrained into every person there and the odour left much to be desired.

Squall had smiled upon Seifer’s approach, feeling relief wash over him when the elder man sat down across from him. He had been feeling awkward with all the strange stares that seemed to be centered on him. He felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of so many eyes. He wanted to brush his hair back, but thought better of it, lest he reveal his pointed ears to the too-curious patrons. He was all too glad to let Seifer order for the both of them, remaining silent until the barmaid had disappeared and the blond had turned his attention to the brunette. "Everything should be ready within two candlemarks. Enough time for the food and bathing I think. Did you manage to get the cattle arranged?"

Before Seifer could respond, the same serving girl came back with two rough mugs of bitter cider and handed them off to them before bustling away again. Squall sipped the bittersweet liquid cautiously as he watched the other man expectantly.

"Yes, just took half a life time and the promise of my first born. They probably won't part with the stock until just before dusk in an effort to get us to spend the night and spend more coin," Seifer said as he rubbed the back of his neck. He felt tired; everything ached. Fighting and traveling at this pace really wore a man out. He wanted to get back to the Dragonskeep, unload the kid on some teachers, spend a night or two in a real bed and be on his way. Now that a new rider had been found, others might start appearing. He drained half of the flagon of bitter cider in one large gulp. It was obvious he was at home around alcohol, enjoying the pleasant burn the drink left in his throat and stomach. At least the cider was least likely to be watered down with anything foul. "We'll get the cattle then head back to camp, spend the night before we keep moving." He did not want to mention anything about dragons around here where there were too many ears listening.

The elf nodded in agreement, taking a larger sip of his drink, cheeks heating as the alcohol made it into his system, never having drank anything like it before. He smiled a little, feeling warm.

The serving girl sauntered over to their table once more. "Bath's ready an'time you are," she said, passing by towards another patron. Squall’s eyes followed her approach and retreat sluggishly before turning back to the other man curiously, wondering if they would be bathing together in a public bathing area or if the inn would have separate bathing chambers. Living in the elf lands, bathing in rivers and lakes was common, together or alone and in the homes, there were usually luxurious bathing chambers, magic heating the water.

Seifer stretched as he stood up from the rough wooden chair. "Right, let's get going while the water's still warm,” he said before draining the remains of the cider from his mug, "We'll eat when we get back." He pushed the chair back under the table, keen to bathe as soon as possible, well aware that the stink of travel clung to him. With any luck the proprietors of the inn had a coal fire stoked under the tub to keep it nice and hot. He walked towards the simple latched door, crude markings on its surface indicating that it was the bathing chamber.

Trying not to wonder about how many others had been in the water before them, he held the door open for Squall as the elf followed him before casually inspecting the large wooden tub that sat upon the ground. The water was steaming, though there was no obvious source of heat. He smiled when he picked up the telltale taste of magic. It was probably some left over Elven artifact, perhaps Dwarven, though he doubted it as Dwarves did not want anything to do with humans. He walked over towards the far side of the wall, not bothering to wait for his companion as he moved towards a series of hooks that had been hammered into a plank over a shelf. He began to strip off, only too happy for the brief reprieve from his stifling armour. It seemed like it had been an age since he had removed the armour entirely. He folded and hung the various pieces of the armour he wore. He would have to wash and clean them when he got back to their camp, but didn’t dare to do so while they remained in the village, unwilling to spend any more time than absolutely necessary in the small settlement.

Squall followed the other man, standing gracefully and walking behind him as they made their way to the bathing chamber. It was unlike any he had ever seen before and the steaming water carried the heavy scent of magic which made him curious, but he didn't say anything about it as he watched the other man beginning to undress before he realized he was staring and turned away to remove his own leather armor and cloth tunic with a dark blush. He set his weapons against the wall below his hanging clothing, standing awkwardly once nude, his pale skin unmarred accept for the tiniest of scars from his childhood on his left ankle and a reddish vaguely heart shaped birthmark on his right hipbone.

Seifer stood naked for a brief moment, glad to be out of his armour, appearing entirely unembarrassed by his state of undress in the other male’s presence. The revealed skin previously hidden by his armour and clothing was paler than the rest of him and riddled with scars, forming a network of war wounds. A large circular knotted scar warped the skin just next to his heart, covering a majority of one broad shoulder blade, a twin scar taking up residence on his chest, the two by far the most obvious and severe of the many his flesh bore. From burns to sword wounds, it seemed he was a walking tapestry of tales that spoke of long fought battles. With a quiet sigh, Seifer paid little heed to anything around him as he clambered up over the side of the tub, slipping easily into the water with a deep groan of pleasure.

Squall’s stormy gaze caught on Seifer again, taking in all of the scars littering the other rider's skin before he slipped into the water as the elf removed the bandanna last, revealing his pointed ears. He shook his hair out before following the other into the warm water, seating himself across from the taller man. He tried not to stare at the battle-scarred flesh of Seifer’s torso. "You've seen many battles," the brunette stated quietly, averting his eyes in embarrassment. It made his own chest ache seeing the intricately webbed and sometimes horrific scars. "Do they still hurt?" he asked after a moment, quelling the urge to touch the warped skin.

The other rider raised an eyebrow, opening his eyes and watching the elf as he spoke. He glanced down at his chest as though for a brief moment he had forgotten about his scars.  
"Sometimes," he spoke quietly in response, a large hand pressing against the spear wound on his chest, "Most times it’s just numb." He emphasized his point by tapping on a long, white scar on his arm. If it weren’t for the sensation in his finger, he would not notice the touch to the puckered skin at all. "Hurt when I got them though. Years of war will do that to a man," the blonde rider smiled lopsidedly, the low light emphasizing the stubble on his remarkably unmarred face.

The acute sting of guilt shocked the elf as he heard the other man's words about his scars; guilt over what exactly, he couldn't explain. It was as if he should have been able to help Seifer in the past, as if he could have prevented some of the wounds that had caused such awful scars, but that was completely absurd and illogical, being that he hadn’t even been born yet when some of the wounds were received. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, unable to control himself. Squall turned away from the taller rider as he dunked underwater, trying to keep the threatening tears at bay. It was the strangest feeling he'd ever experienced for someone he barely knew.

Seifer slipped under the water briefly, running the almost burning water through his hair before coming back up for air. The warrior reached behind himself, nearly getting out of the bath to reach his pack. He pulled out a block of sandy ashen substance, “Soap,” he stated, handing the rough bar to the elf.

Still trying to shake the odd feeling, Squall welcomed the distraction when the human handed him the soap which he put to use immediately, trying to analyze his own strange reaction. "Thank you," he said gratefully as he ran the rough bar over his skin, now pink with the warmth of the water.

Seifer smiled, leaning back against the wall of the tub, his muscled arms resting lazily on the wooden rim. Bright viridian eyes closed in relaxation, he waited for the other to finish with the soap. He yawned widely; it seemed like a hundred years of sleep deprivation was hounding at the corners of his mind. His thoughts swirled in his mind as though he had only just now been given the time to consider the events of the past ten days. He’d found a new rider. The elders would be pleased and he could go back to the keep and sleep for a year, maybe two; real rest was something the scarred blond had found scarce for the past few centuries. He rolled his head back on the edge of the basin, cracking the bones in his neck while listening idly for the muffled sounds of the patrons in the inn; they seemed oddly quiet. He figured it was likely quieter because a man and what they assumed was a beautiful woman had entered the bathing room together; they were probably straining their ears to hear what he and Squall were up to within the small chamber. It wasn’t hard to guess what assumptions they were making about the odd pair’s activities behind the closed door.

He gave his head a little shake, trying not to think too deeply into what exactly those activities would be; it had been far too long since he’d had lover. "So, human villages everything you expected them to be?" he asked instead, cracking one eye to peer at the elf across from him, pressing his distracting musings to the back of his mind.

Squall rinsed the remnants of soap from his hair and skin as best he could in the murky water before handing the bar of soap to the other man and answering his inquiry. "Not exactly. They're a lot... dirtier than I expected," he said after a moment's pause. He'd never seen such filthy people or such a roughly made town before. The Elf lands were rich with greenery and wildlife and flowers that made the air sweet. Someone was always playing music and the Elven people never looked like the people of the town, even when grim news was heard. Then again, living in the Elf lands, he had been hidden away from such sights as the human villages, since the Elves had lost contact with all humans once the false king had taken over.

He swiped his hair back, making his ears stand out, the sodden chocolate stands hanging straight down and sticking to his shoulders and chest. He sighed softly, the feeling of guilt had subsided to a dull ache that was bearable and the distracting conversation was helping immensely. "Are all towns like this one?"

"Honestly?" Seifer responded, unconsciously rubbing down his body with the coarse block of soap, trying to work out as much of the grime from his flesh as possible. “Most cities are cramped and filthy, disease is rampant and crime is rife. If you're rich, you might bathe once a month and if you’re poor, well you can imagine how often they bathe," he paused, motioning to a few nasty scars beneath the suds, "Most of these would have killed me if I had been brought to a human doctor. Let’s just say, I try to stay among my own kin as little as possible,” he finished with a mocking smile. "Thankfully the Dragonskeep was built with assisstance from all the races. Dwarven and Goblin engineering mostly, Elven architecture, and human, well human labor mainly. It was good once, or so I've been told, before the dark King’s reign, the peoples of the land were peaceful," he shrugged one broad shoulder awkwardly in his reclined position, "An untamed land of majesty; men were noble; women were fair, and dragons still roamed the skies," he shook his head as if to deny such a time had existed, "But those are just stories for the young and the stupid."

"When I was small, my mother told me many stories about the dragons and the riders and about the lands outside our homeland, but in all of her stories, it was never like this. I wish she'd told me it would be like this so I wouldn't have been so disappointed upon seeing it for myself. Perhaps I am one of those young and stupid people you speak of," Squall spoke quietly, bitterness colouring the words, though the other rider's words had not offended him. It was true; he'd heard many tales of the way things were once, when races lived happily in peace with one another and dragons and riders were abundant and held in high regard along with his own people. He had been naive to think that the cities his mother had spoken of and the riders he had so envied would be as they were in those stories, untouched by the dreaded king. In truth, he had probably known deep in his mind that those were only fairy tales and that the tyrant king had ruined those days from his mother's and Seifer's stories. But, just because he had known the truth within his mind didn't mean he hadn't hoped for it to have been different from these torn lands.

"Maybe the reason we're fighting is because of those tales. Would you fight for a nation whose stories were about ugly villages and dirty, smelly people?" Seifer said as he went over his chest once again with the bar of soap, "Trust me kid, I grew up in a city not unlike this one before I was chosen by the riders," he rubbed at the thickening stubble along his jaw; he was in serious need of a good shave, "Humans aren't good, they're not evil, they're just willing to follow whoever has the biggest, sharpest stick.” He gave another shrug. "Trouble is, in order to have said stick, you generally have to kill whoever had it first." At that, covered in ashen grey suds he dunked himself under the water again, rinsing as much dirt away as he could, pointedly ignoring the semi murky water swirling around them. He paused before beginning to lather himself up again. "But then, maybe those days will return once the king has been dethroned. Perhaps, someone can do something, I mean, the rest of the Riders are certainly trying.”

"I hope I can be of help to change this world. Why haven't there been any new riders for so long?" Squall questioned, feeling as though his becoming a rider was a sign of something, since it had been so long since the last rider had been born. He stood up in the tub, the water pooling just above his hips, hiding his nudity below the murky surface. Long ears twitched as muffled sounds from the inn outside filtered into the enclosed bathing chamber. It seemed the patrons were becoming suddenly restless outside.

"Nobody knows, maybe the dark king has been getting them all," Seifer suggested idly, though he was fairly certain that that wasn’t the case, "The last one picked up by the riders was three hundred years ago, and the many that were still around before then have drawn their sides already." Glancing at the elf, he noted that the pale boy’s body was rather toned; perhaps he would make an adequate fighter, although Seifer thought the lithe form was still much too fey to use anything with too much strength. Being an Elf, the boy would probably make a decent mage, he considered, not knowing about any training that the other might have received in his homeland. Squall carried both a sword and a bow and seemed familiar with the weapons, but Seifer doubted he’d had much experience in real battle. "Think it is time to go, before we fall asleep and our food is stolen,” he suggested, making himself a mental note to test the boy out later in their journey.

"You're right," Squall agreed with a small smile before stepping out of the deep basin, squeezing his long hair out and using the rough towel provided to dry his skin as much as possible before redressing, fastening his sword at his hip again and pulling his bow onto his back before tying his damp hair at his nape with a strip of leather once more and replacing the silken material that served as a bandanna over his ears. He stood by the doorway awkwardly while he waited for Seifer, tightening his leather arm bands to keep himself busy and distract himself from the sight of the handsome, scarred rider as he exited the murky basin as well.

Seifer followed the younger man’s lead, attaching the armor piece by piece once he was as dry as he could be, seeming to take an age to replace each tarnished piece of armour in its rightful place, covering the scars that riddled his body from view once more. Leather and metal made up the greater part of his armour, a heavy, silver great sword strapped into place across his back, easily accessible from over his left shoulder. Finished redressing at last, he followed Squall to the door where the elf pushed the heavy wood open into the dimly lit inn and was greeted with the sight of several crossbows leveled at his chest. Instinctively, he pushed the Elven boy behind his broader form, a large hand reaching for the pummel of his blade over his shoulder.

"Leave the weapon alone," a stern voice commanded gruffly, "Seifer Almasy, the Obsidian Knight, you are hereby arrested for crimes against the crown and the rightful king of the Hamar Kingdom."

Stormy depths blinked in confusion as he was pushed behind the taller man. Squall peered around Seifer, eyes widening as he saw the soldiers surrounding the doorway. He listened as they spoke to Seifer, fingers twitching to grasp his own weapons. His eyes caught on the other rider’s hand as a small fire ball appeared there and he felt the stir of magic around them, his own magic from within responding to it, building and pushing outwards. He looked around, taking in the surroundings, the wood, the dirt beneath, the water in the basin, the old magic tied there; it could all be used in their favour. The incantation was already on his lips, melodic words perched on the tip of his tongue, prepared to spill forth at the first cue from the other male.

Seifer bent his knees slightly. Ten soldiers with no riders, therefore no dragons and likely more reinforcements on the way. These were guardsmen, not the Horde nor members of the Immortal Legion, just men. Seifer lowered the hand from the grip of his sword, keeping the palm facing away from the guards as he ignited a small fireball; his chest gave a twinge of discomfort.

He cast a sidelong glance behind himself at the elf. The soldiers were shaking, obviously frightened at the prospect of battling the Obsidian Knight, forced into the situation by their commanding officer, certainly not battle-hardened soldiers. Any perceived attack would surely let lose the bolts from the quivering crossbows in their grips.

"Loose the weapon strap and place your hands where I can see them," the same voice called out from betwixt several of the soldiers, a burly, scarred man with the badge of a higher guard stood brandishing a longsword in Seifer’s direction. He was clearly the one rallying this rabble.

Crossbow bolts would be painful; he could survive a few, but ten and one of them would end up killing him for certain, if not from a mortal wound then simply from bleeding out. He reached up with his free hand, slowly unclasping the buckle that held the great sword onto his back. Click; one buckle came loose. His hand moved to the next. Click; the sword slipped. As his blade began to fall, he moved with well-trained reflexes, his left hand flew forward, releasing the ball of flame from his hand and igniting further in the air as a large cloud of fire. Guards shouted and screamed more from fear than any real pain; the flames were not concentrated enough to burn, at most leaving singes and melted hair in their wake. Bolts loosed into their air as Seifer twisted his body, the arrows clattered against the wooden frame of the doorway and the still opened door itself, fired without aiming. He grabbed his sword by the grip before the blade could fall to the ground by his feet, swinging it in a wide arc, the heavy flat smashing into the side of a man's battered helm. The soldier crumpled as the weight of the scabbarded blade slammed into him.

Squall moved instinctively as soon as Seifer did, their bodies amazingly working in perfect sync. The lithe elf moved with a swift fluidity that the race was so known for, dropping to a crouch and slamming an open palm against the floor, ancient words pouring from bowed lips as he did. Magic sparked in the air around him, raising loose strands of chestnut hair with an unnatural wind as he called on the elements. It was more than he'd ever done before, but he somehow knew it would be alright. Wood splintered under the soldiers' feet, exploding upwards in a shower of sharp stakes, slicing gashes in flesh and plunging into vulnerable unarmoured crevices, causing confusion, the guards thrown off as some were injured. The array of armed men stumbled, the onslaught of their arrows delayed for a moment, forgotten in their confusion.

 

\----

 

Ifrit woke from his snooze abruptly, golden eyes narrowing, immediately turned towards the village. ‘Something's wrong,’ he hesitated. The feeling that had woken him, pressing at him insistently did not indicate that their riders had been involved in a simple fight or brawl. Instead a sense of urgency, a necessity for protection crawled beneath his scales. His wings snapped wide as he readied himself to respond to the urgent press from his rider.

Shiva’s pale head shot up as magical energy shrieked through her still growing link with Squall just moments after Ifrit’s words. She was up as quickly as the larger dragon. Though she could not hear her rider’s voice yet, she could feel him and his magic; it was a strong pull on her own. ‘They need us; we must not waste time,’ she said seriously, wasting only a moment before launching her smaller form into the air and tearing through the darkening sky towards their riders trapped in the town. The need to protect her rider was overwhelming and the pull, the necessity to make sure he was safe was overpowering, making her wings beat faster as she raced to reach him. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him.

\----

Squall breathed heavily as the magic crackled and fizzled, sparking over his skin still, at the ready to be used again if he desired it. He waited for Seifer's direction, unsure which way they were to go.

Seifer had paused, somewhat surprised and a little impressed by the chaos Squall’s attack had caused, thankful for the brief reprieve from the onslaught of crossbow bolts. "Outside now!" he shouted over the bray of the disgruntled soldiers. As the guards fumbled for their weapons once more, he drew the great sword from its scabbard, kicking the guard closest to him as he reached for his crossbow. The tall blonde ran towards the side door of the inn. He slammed against it with gritted teeth when it did not open to him. He took a step back, narrowed jade eyes searching the wood before him; one solid kick to the door split the hinges, but still the door did not move, obviously barricaded and not simply locked as he had hoped. He spun on one booted heel, gaze searching for another route of exit. His gaze made contact for the briefest of seconds with Squall’s as he pointed to a heavily soot stained glass window. He scooped up a bench, slamming it into the window, the thick lead barred window bowed then shattered before the bench landed on the dirt road outside of it. Squall was quick to move when Seifer directed him to. He pulled the long, slim silver sword from the scabbard at his hip and defended against the inaccurate blows of the jostled soldiers as they passed through them, doing his best to fend them off while the other rider broke open the window for their escape. A few of the guards stood on wobbling legs, crossbows clumsily aimed at the pair. Seifer did not think, did not aim, instinct driving him as his hand flicked forward. A soldier screamed as his body ignited in unnatural flame. The bolt loosed from his crossbow and glanced along Seifer’s waist, the thick leather of his armour shielding him from the blow that would have surely slowed their escape. Pain lanced through his torso instead, a hand went to his chest as handsome features contorted in a grimace of anguish from the repercussions of his magic use.

Squall shouted when stormy eyes caught sight of Seifer faltering as a bolt glanced off the side of his armour, inexplicable rage rising at the sight, unaware of the real cause of the other rider’s pain. In a blur of motion, the brunette sheathed his sword and pulled his bow. Though he had no arrows, it hardly mattered as he spouted several more ancient words, an arrow of white misty light forming as he pulled the string taught before releasing the energy at the soldiers closest to the two of them. The arrow struck one soldier directly, exploding in a cascade of white light that pushed the others in the immediate vicinity away, throwing them through the air and crashing into their comrades.

Satisfied by the effects of his attack, Squall moved to Seifer’s side, a delicate-seeming hand pressing on the older man's thick arm as the elf urged the broad man to move out the window. "Come on. The dragons are on their way. We have to get outside.

\----

Amber eyes scanned the horizon intently. It was not hard to spot a squad marching along the route to the village and there was no doubt in the large dragon’s mind just where they were headed. Ifrit glanced towards Shiva as she flew at his side. He gave a strangled roar unexpectedly, missing a wing beat mid-flight as a sharp pain reverberated through his massive chest. He growled, a gout of flame erupting from his fanged maw angrily as he pushed himself to fly faster, the startling lash of pain urging him to move quicker. Seifer needed him.

The albino dragon could hardly spare any concern for her companion when he roared, faltering a moment in the air. Shiva had no chance to be curious about it as they rushed onward, nearly over the little town already. As soon as she could see the town below, her crimson gaze fell on the building that seemed to have the most activity, a group of soldiers surrounding it with weapons drawn. She knew without a doubt that the riders were there. ‘They are there!’ she shouted to Ifrit, not bothering to wait for him before she twisted into a dive, calling on the cold inside of her and blasting the grounds and any soldiers unlucky enough to get in the way with frigid ice.

Seifer shuddered, hand still clenched against his chest, willing his battered heart to keep beating as he pushed himself to move to the window, spurred forward by the press of the Elven boy’s hand and his desperate words. He half climbed, half fell out of the window, landing harshly into a field of ice statues which had been living, breathing soldiers only minutes before, Squall landing in a crouch next to him seconds after. Bolts clattered around them before the crossbows were dropped as guards began to flee in fear. Some brave or stupid soldiers were still coming, pursuing the pair in spite of their obvious disadvantage. A guard clambering through the window was impaled by Seifer’s great sword, his slumping body slowing the others behind him.

 

"Get on your damn dragon!” Seifer shouted, sparing the elf barely a glance before pointing at the white dragon circling overhead. Not waiting for the youth to follow his command, he ran forward, muscles screaming in protest as guards scattered around them, running frantically in all directions from the village centre. He cut two down without thought as another went up in flame at his back. He roared as pain flared in his chest again, but he could spare no time to breathe through the vehement sting as he tried to keep what guards he could at bay while Squall and his snowy dragon escaped. Ifrit could pick him up mid-flight, much more accustomed to battle than the other pair. Already the black shadow was circling above, gouts of liquid flame landing on clusters of men as the large dragon waited for his cue.

 

Shiva's claws left huge divots in the earth as she landed just barely long enough for her rider to throw himself onto her back before she took off into the air once more. ‘You aren't hurt,’ it was a statement, not a question as her voice filled Squalls mind, relief evident in the tone. She had been so worried. 

 

‘Yes. But something is not right with Seifer. I think he is injured. We must get away as quickly as possible,’ the brunette replied, stroking her neck briefly in a reassurance of his good health. He was a little tired from the use of magic, but nowhere near his limit yet and even if he were, he would withstand it and any further fatigue until they had gotten away and he had looked the other male over. And he would look him over, whether Seifer wanted it or not. There was something strange that had happened during the skirmish in the inn and though he wasn't sure what it was, he wasn't going to ignore it.

 

The opalescent dragon's wings beat the air with a ferocity that propelled them out of arrow range within seconds and Squall found himself searching the ground below desperately with a squinted gaze as he looked for his companion, willing the other dragon to get other man quickly, even as Shiva continued to shower ice down upon the enemies.

 

Another guard tried to rush Seifer; he was cut down with a swing from the great sword. A crossbow bolt hit the broad blond rider’s shoulder, barely noticed through the already burning pain echoing through his chest, rage and pure adrenaline pushing him onward without a backward glance. A shadow blotted him out briefly as Ifrit swooped down, dangerous claws clasping around Seifer, plucking him from the ground with practiced ease before rearing back up into the sky above where Shiva and her rider circled. Arrows and short spears glanced off the twilight dragon’s scaled hide as the pair ascended higher into the air, powerful wings beating intensely as he struggled upwards, fighting against the echoes of his rider’s pain. Seifer panted in his dragon’s grasp, green eyes glazing over as his vision darkened around the edges before his body grew limp against his will. The sword slipped from his now loose grip and plummeted back down to the earth below, but he had little energy to mourn its loss, unconsciousness taking him. Ifrit struggled to get as much distance as possible between them and the village as Seifer lost consciousness, the lingering pain in his chest leaving him short of breath, the feeling of his rider’s beating heart slowing and pulling at his own making him falter in the air. His wings were sagged as his vision faded.

‘Keep... going.... have to... go... far... Mountains,’ his voice was strained, barely more than a whisper that he was not even sure if the other dragon and rider could hear over the roar of wind around them.

‘Hold on!’ the pale dragon's voice rang out in both her rider and Ifrit's mind as she dived through the air to catch the faltering form of the dark dragon and his already unconscious rider. She struggled with the superior weight, wings beating harshly and burning with the strain as she kept them in flight. ‘We must reach the mountains,’ she said with a finality underlying her tone that Squall had never heard before. He didn't reply, merely holding her tighter as she grit her jaw and pushed her smaller, immature body to its limits carrying the fully grown male dragon and his rider to relative safety.

After what seemed an eternity, they made it over the rocky crags, Shiva doing her best to ride the wind rather than beat her exhausted wings. Below them, the rocky mountain terrain turned to that of a valley with much forestry and cover from the prying eyes of the sky above. The albino let out a trill of relief. ‘It's going to be a harsh landing,’ she warned tiredly as she began to descend more rapidly than she would have liked under the superior weight of her charges.

‘You must jump from my back. I will have to take the impact of the earth lest we risk injuring or killing Seifer,’ she explained as they glided over trees and assorted greenery, looking for a break in the dense foliage. Her wings faltered, but she fought to steady them. 

‘But you'll be hurt,’ Squall protested, even knowing that she was right and they had little other choice.

‘A necessary injury, sweet boy,’ she soothed him quietly in his mind, unable to give more reassurance before she suddenly jerked, ‘Jump now! The forest opens ahead. Find us when you are grounded...’

Without hesitation, Squall flung himself from the saddle on Shiva’s back and plummeted into the trees, luckily gaining only many bruises and scrapes as he fell, rolling when he hit the earth with a muted thud and much crackling from broken branches. He groaned as he laid on the earth, his body aching and throbbing, though nothing seemed to be broken, accept for his bow. The lithe figure swore in Elven and tossed the broken wood away, keeping only the line of bowstring, shoving it into the satchel at his waist as he gained his footing.

Shiva used the last of her strength to twist herself, folding her wings in as they dropped from the air, her back crashing against the ground and sending dirt and various debris spewing across the path in a harsh spray as she took the impact for the three of them, the sensitive membranes in her wings tearing as they were raked angrily across the earth. She shrieked in pain, letting go of the other dragon after the initial shock of the impact and rolled for several yards. She scanned pained scarlet eyes over the other dragon and rider, gauging them to be relatively unscathed from the rough landing and she prayed that her rider would find them soon before she closed her eyes, falling into the bliss of unconsciousness under the weight of the pain in her wings.

 

 

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay so, this chapter was originally monstrous, something like seventeen thousand words and thirty pages, so I decided to split it in two. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to find a decent place to split it, but whatever, if you’re reading it, you’ll be onto the next chapter before you can wander what will happen anyhow. And I know there are no sexy bits as of yet and probably won’t be for a while longer as this particular work is plot filled and needs time to progress. I promise to hurry it up as much as I can, but I’d rather not rush it too much. Alright, I’m done rambling. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review if you have the time.


	4. Three: Best Kept Secrets

Three: Best Kept Secrets

 

It didn't take long for Squall to find the dragons and the other rider, making his way through the foliage with the speed of one who had grown up in such terrain. He pulled Seifer away from the loosened grip of Ifrit’s talons and propped the blond head against the remnants of a bedroll before quickly looking over Ifrit for any wounds, finding none, he moved swiftly to heal his own dragon before he could look Seifer over fully. Shiva's damaged wings and ragged back were a horrid sight and he was afraid she'd never fly again if they were left the way they were for any longer. He swallowed as tears slid over his cheeks unnoticed while he touched the battered and bloodied appendages, removing small bits of debris and stones from the wounds. He knelt and placed palms against the earth, calling the water below and pulling it up to bubble between his hands. It took great effort to hold the large amount of water between his hands and he almost lost control of it several times before finally being able to pour it over the wounds, cleaning them with the soothing liquid.

Squall cried as he worked, unable to staunch the flow of tears as he set to healing the worst of the wounds, hands moving with a soft glow and even softer words as magic stitched the torn flesh back together and mended delicate bones and tiny veins until her wings and back were nearly back to their previous beauty, though there would no doubt be scars later.

When he had finished healing her, the brunette made his way over to the other two, repeating the process on both, healing their many light wounds that had not been deemed pressing previously, none of which explained their loss of consciousness. He swayed on his knees as he ran hands over the left side of Seifer's chest, a wave of nausea crashing over him. The darkness that assaulted him there nearly made him pass out. It was a dark magic that had been tied to the blonde rider’s heart, one that Squall was not capable of expelling in his current state, not that he even knew how to perform such a procedure. He'd never finished that part of his education in the Elven lands, too young for it yet. He'd have to ask Seifer about it when he woke later.

With that thought in mind, the elf gave in to fatigue and slid down next to the other man, curling close to his side as he lost his own consciousness, bruised, dirty and covered in the rusty smudges of everyone else’s, but for his own blood.

Ifrit woke first, much to his own regret. One amber eye opened, pupil narrowing to a slit as he took in the surrounding; they were somewhere rocky with trees not too far off around them. Shiva was in a bad way, though it seemed that the worst of it had been healed. More worrisome than the appearance of the beautiful snowy dragon was the absence of Seifer’s presence inside his mind. He knew their hearts had stopped; for a brief moment he had thought they’d died. But no, there was far too much pain for them to be lost in the great ether. Shiva had managed to land them.

He wished he could have done something more, taken the brunt of the damage instead of her, but there was nothing for it; there would be scars, but she would heal. He laid his head back down tiredly. The metallic tang of blood lingered in his mouth, though he knew he had not been wounded during the skirmish; it was the product of a cursed wound that his rider carried with him and in turn it echoed within him through their shared bond. He hesitated in his musings; Squall and Shiva would want to know what had happened, what had caused them to faint so suddenly when they’d only received minor wounds from the small battle. He sighed inwardly. It was an old war wound; the use of magic aggravated it. He had naught the desire to tell the too-trusting pair that it had been given to them by the Dragonskeep. The old hag of an elder had laid the curse upon them, a small price to pay in exchange for their lives.

Ifrit attempted to stand, but his limbs were still too weak, heavy with lethargy and the lingering ache from the curse. The dark scaled dragon shuddered before simply laying back down, unable to muster the energy needed to move. He concentrated on his rider, feeling the tendril of Seifer’s consciousness dimly beyond the haze of pain that he had not felt upon waking. His rider was still alive at least. For now, just that was enough.

Seifer woke suddenly; his body felt as though Ifrit had rolled over him in the night. He was not sure the time of day, nor exactly where they were. He opened a hazy emerald eye warily, looking down at himself as best he could without moving too much, noting first and foremost that the effeminate elf boy was sleeping curled next to him, pressed warmly against his side. The bolt he’d taken to his shoulder was now just a bandage spotted with remnants of blood and surprisingly very little pain radiating from it hat should have been a much worse sting than the dull ache that remained, but aside from that one wound, there was little else to cause discomfort. The damage was a product of the curse he bore. He swore he could feel it sitting in his chest, waiting and watching. If he imagined prodding it, he could almost feel it shifting, tightening its grip on his heart defensively.

Bruised, but far from broken, he sat up briskly, fighting back a groan as the swift movement made his head swim. In a better way than the dragons, he eased himself away from Squall, standing and wincing, but refusing to give in to the tiresome pain. Uneasily, he staggered towards the pale dragon, inspecting the damage. She had taken the brunt of the fall, but it was clear that the elf had healed the worst of it, remarkable, it seemed Squall had healed them all before succumbing to his own fatigue. Even with the healing, it would be at least a week before any of them were ready to fly. He gave a mental wince, a pang of guilt reminding him that he had been the cause of this mess. Moving on slowly, Seifer walked back over to his own dragon. Ifrit was awake, though he barely cracked one eye upon the tall blonde’s approach. He placed a dirty hand on the huge reptile’s side. Neither of them spoke, Ifrit projecting a distinct air of silence as the dark amber of that one eye bore into his rider.

There were no words that would be adequate for any sort of apology and even if there were, it was years too late. Seifer gave a bare nod and turned away, limping towards the tattered gear bags near the dragon’s backside. With the slowness of an old man, he pulled what little remaining supplies they had out from the torn packs. They would need to eat once they’d all woken and since he was awake, he might as well get something prepared with what meager rations they still had. Maybe once he ate, he’d be able to help with any more healing. He crouched down next to the gear, leaning heavily against Ifrit’s side, and with the gear only half removed, he fell asleep before he could protest against his fatigue.

Squall woke with a start from a nightmare he couldn't recall upon waking. He was immediately aware of the other rider's disappearance from his side. He sat up with a soft groan as pain throbbed in his head and body. A magic hangover... He'd used so much of his magic the day before, he doubted he’d be able to do anything more than lift a pebble for a few days. He rubbed his eyes with the fingers of one hand, running a hand through his no longer bound hair, the bandana long gone in the skirmish the day before. He sighed heavily before forcing himself to stand, body protesting every movement he made vehemently. He checked on his still slumbering dragon before doing anything else, rubbing his palms over the soft scales of her nose as he sang a soft lullaby in Elven to her in her dreaming mind, keeping her dreams pure and her slumber from being restless as her body recuperated.

After he had checked the albino dragon over, Squall made his way to the other, finding Seifer slumped there, propped up against Ifrit’s dark hide, bags half unpacked. The brunette smiled in spite of himself; the sight was too ridiculous. The other man was stubborn and had obviously been trying to do more than his body would allow before he'd simply nodded off, unable to finish unpacking. He shook his head, not waking Seifer before he went in search of wood suitable to build a fire.

Half an hour passed before he returned with decent wood and began preparing a fire that they could cook on. He hummed quietly to himself as he worked to light the mostly dried wood.

The soft sounds of the crackling fire woke Seifer once more. He gave himself a shake, urging himself into wakefulness before picking up the meager supplies he’d been attempting to retrieve before his impromptu nap. They would have to hunt and hunt enough to feed two dragons at that. He slumped down in tired defeat before rallying himself together once more, dragging the supplies he needed to make some poor excuse for soup over to the warm flames. Ifrit continued to remain silent, all but ignoring the tall blonde. Seifer gave a soft sigh, pulling out a soot caked pot and throwing a few cubes of stew stock into it that would make the eventual soup bitter and unpalatable, but good enough to feed an army.

 

"I-is there any water?" he managed to choke out, feeling as though his throat had been sanded raw.

Squall had yet to say anything to the other rider even after Seifer had come to sit at the fire and begin preparing some soup. At the other man's question, he jolted as if he had been in some kind of trance prior to hearing Seifer's voice. He'd been lost in his thoughts, many connections being made and questions forming in the aftermath of his discoveries the day before. He picked up one of the surviving canteens from where it sat on the ground next to him, having filled it in a stream he'd come across when searching for the wood and handed the nearly full container of water to the other man. He hesitated to ask about the strange magic residing inside of the older rider, curious and concerned, but apprehensive about what the others reaction might be.

"I will set traps for rabbits. Stay here," Squall stated brusquely, standing gingerly, his voice tired, "Please," he added as an afterthought, feeling odd about ordering the older rider to do anything. He didn't want Seifer to strain himself any more than he already had. The elf was exhausted and sore, but he could manage setting some traps and perhaps catching some fish in a net from the stream. They’d need more than soup to feed themselves and their dragons.

The softly spoken order gave Seifer pause, surprised that the boy had given him a command in the first place. He hid a small smile behind one large tanned hand, feigning rubbing his stubble covered chin and sitting down to tend to the fire, giving a bare nod of acknowledgement. "We'll need bigger game for them," he spoke in quiet tones, almost too quiet to be audible as if he were speaking to himself and not Squall. The last time they’d been this bad off, he’d had to spend a majority of his time just hunting for his companion and the rest he’d spent bringing it back to camp. He didn’t think that he’d be of much help to the young elf in his current state. He shook his head, finding it hard to concentrate. Murky green eyes drifted to the flames as he poured the water into the pot mechanically. It was a shame they had not made it to the Dragonskeep; they had a fully stocked pen of beasts for the dragons at the keep and warm beds for recovering too. Feeling drowsy, he shook himself, forcing himself to stay awake in spite of his consuming exhaustion, still struggling to concentrate.

Squall just nodded in response to the blonde’s words and once he was certain that the other man wasn't going to fall head first into the fire, he set off into the forest, making traps for small game from several young saplings and setting a net from his satchel in the stream to catch the fish. While at the river, he collected several small stones and kept them in his palm as he began the long, arduous process of finding larger game for their dragons. He tracked a group of deer to the other side of the foliage and carefully used the smallest threads of magic he could to lift the stones and shoot them with enough force to down the deer, the tiny pebbles lodged within their heads. He swayed, a wave of dizziness threatening to knock him off his feet as the nausea produced from overusing his magic swept over him. Now the tricky part; bringing the meat back. He had to think for several moments, steadying himself on an elderly oak tree as he came up with a way to carry the deer back to the camp.

It took nearly two hours before he’d managed to drag the two smallish deer back to camp on a makeshift stretcher, looking entirely worn. He did not say anything as he left them in between the two dragons and seated himself across from Seifer, slate eyes staring into the flames blankly, too tired to do much else. His body was numb with exhaustion. Perhaps he had been mostly uninjured, but dealing with the others' injuries was taking its toll.

Seifer felt like he should be saying something, as if words were needed somehow; he just wasn’t certain which words he should be saying. He heaved a heavy sigh, carefully rolling his still tender shoulder as his foggy mind tried to piece together something to say to the younger man.

"We’re going to have to spend a week at the least just recovering," he stated finally, unable to endure the silence any longer. He knew that the words were unlikely to be the ones the elf wanted or needed to hear, but it was the best he could muster. He ladled a bowl full of the thickened broth seasoned with herbs and oats and passed it to Squall; clearly the boy would need to recover from the backlash of his magic. Seifer poured himself a bowl of the mixture as well, not bothering with a spoon, instead drinking it straight from the bowl.

The elf took the bowl from the other male gratefully and sipped at the hot broth, undeterred by the bitterness of it, barely tasting it at all as he nodded to Seifer’s statement; it was unnecessary to voice in the first place. There was no way that Squall would make his dragon push herself after she’d sustained such terrible wounds. She had not even regained consciousness yet; there would be no talk of leaving until she was awake and recovered. Ifrit was in no condition for flight either and barely able to stand, Seifer wasn't much better.

There was the lingering feeling in his gut that told Seifer that he should be saying something more to the brunette and fell into an awkward silence for several long moments before he could work out something else to say. "Thank you… For healing us."

Squall looked at the other rider oddly when he expressed his thanks, "You're not," he paused for a moment, debating with himself, "Healed, that is. I couldn't take it out." His soft voice was weighed down heavily by guilt as he spoke in reference to the darkness still lingering in Seifer's heart.

The warrior was taken aback by the elf’s words, obviously surprised by Squall’s knowledge of his curse. "Oh… No, I suppose you wouldn't be able to," he stated absently, a scarred hand lifting to his chest to rub over the old wound beneath his armour unconsciously. The curse was still there, still wound ever so tightly around his heart, slowly choking the precious organ. "Far as I know, there's only one who can take it out," he shrugged lightly with hollow nonchalance, "Came with the wound. Don't worry about it. So long as I don’t use magic too much, it doesn't usually affect me so badly," he lied.

Though he didn't deny the idea of his own worry verbally, Squall did recoil inwardly. He was worried about it, about Seifer. The consuming darkness that had nearly made him ill was certainly much more powerful than Seifer was trying to make it seem, he knew; He’d felt it crawl through his skin when he’d touched the other man. "I could take it out someday, with the right training. I read about those kinds of curses when I was learning, but it's very advanced. Why? Why do you have it?" pointed ears twitched as Squall spoke, his bowl laying forgotten next to him as he watched the other rider with avid grey-blue eyes.

‘Don't tell them the truth,’ came Ifrit's booming voice across the link Seifer shared with the massive dragon, the intensity behind the words shaking him. Emerald glanced over to the midnight dragon, finding the deep honeyed gaze trained back on him. Seifer cringed inwardly; he had gotten himself into this mess and had dragged Ifrit in along with him. He swallowed roughly, pretending to clear his throat as he considered how to word his reply to the innocent inquiry from the elf.

"I was captured, held in chains; the witch was pissed off at me. The story doesn't go well for me from that point. I don’t remember much of it really," it wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t nearly enough of the truth either. He let his gaze fall, unable to meet Ifrit's intense scrutiny any longer, nor could he bring himself to look at Squall, certain that the boy would see through the poorly veiled words.

The elf stared hard at the other rider even as Seifer refused to meet his eyes. The answer wasn’t nearly good enough and the look the taller man had exchanged with Ifrit was far too suspicious to make Seifer’s words believable. Something about what'd he'd said was off, perhaps not an outright lie, but certainly not a full truth. Squall said nothing in reply, deciding not to press it for the moment. The other pair would tell in due time, he was sure. He sighed heavily, turning his gaze back to the fire idly, easily himself to his thoughts once more. Soon enough, Squall was drifting off, slumped down with his back to the log he had been propped against, wisps of white breath appearing and disappearing before his parted lips as sleep overtook him in the cool dusk.

‘They're going to find out sooner or later. They aren't that naïve,’ Seifer spoke brusquely, narrowed gaze shifting to his dragon again now that the Elven boy had been taken by his exhaustion.

‘I would rather later that they find out what we've done,’ Ifrit retorted quickly, oval pupils dilating in the dying light.

‘What I've done. You didn't have a choice,” Seifer corrected, not for the first time.

‘Semantics. They'll find out eventually, but I would rather they didn’t.’

‘We've already been called by our known title. Squall must know that name, even if he was raised cut off in the elf lands. There’s a bounty on our heads the size of a small kingdom,’ Seifer scoffed with a grim smile. Their king had not taken kindly to their betrayal.

‘I know,’ Ifrit snapped, but his anger faded as quickly as it’d come, ‘I just... I don't want them to find out, not now. Just keep what we’ve done to yourself for a while longer.’  
The dark dragon shifted on the cool earth; it was not comfortable, not nearly warm enough for his tastes, but he was too weak to spit anything let alone flames. Inwardly, he admitted to liking the young ice dragon. She was the only other unbonded he’d ever come across and that knowledge had given birth to a tiny flame of hope within him. He and Seifer had been alone so long, nothing but their curse tying them to life. He dashed away the hopeful musings, lest he be disappointed when the other pair left them in disgust.

‘I'm sorry,’ Seifer spoke after a long pause, stinging guilt making his throat feel tight. He sat tending the fire and staring into the bright flames as if the dancing light could give him any advice.

‘What?’ Ifrit’s confusion was clear in his tone. It had been a long time since his rider had last given such a heartfelt apology and the dragon was bewildered as to why Seifer felt the need to voice one now.

‘I'm the one that keeps dragging you into this shit. It’s never been your choice. It was all my romantic dreams of knighthood that brought this curse upon our heads. You should have-‘

‘Yes. Why is it that I still let you ride me? I should have bitten your legs off when I had the chance,’ Ifrit cut off Seifer’s self-deprecating monologue before it could get too far. The past was the past and nothing could be done to change it. No matter how much they wished for absolution, there was none to be received.

‘Because I happened to be the only one left, bottom of the barrel mate and you just so happened to be the last egg to hatch. With any luck, might be a new barrel soon,’ Seifer’s tone was steadier when he responded in kind to his dragon’s sarcasm. With the discovery of the white dragon and her rider, there was hope for future riders to be born, perhaps they already were, just waiting to be found and with a new generation of riders, they might just be able to over throw the dark king.

 

‘Maybe she'll take the curse off now, since we’ve done as she asked. I mean, Shiva- she spits ice. You know the tales,’ Ifrit suggested, his mental voice no more than a hushed whisper.

‘I know, but I doubt it. She'd rather watch me burn. If it weren't for you, I would have.’ Seifer didn’t want to crush Ifrit’s meager hope for freedom, but he had no delusions about the sorceress who’d cursed their very existence. She would never remove the damned darkness from his heart. No, she’d let it fester and consume him until he was no longer of any use to her or the keep and then, then he’d burn for his sins.

‘Enough. Just go to sleep, we both need it,’ Ifrit chided, laying his head down tiredly on the cold ground, having no desire to listen Seifer’s depressing thoughts on the witch that’d cursed them. Squall had mentioned possibly learning how to remove it himself, perhaps if they could keep the young pair with them for just a while longer, they could be free of it. Without another word, Seifer followed suit, leaning against the dark dragon and slowly closing his eyes, praying for dreamless slumber.

Late into the night, crimson eyes opened and met stormy slate across a feebly smoking bed of coals. The elf had woken abruptly, eyes immediately drawn to his dragon and she was awake. A heavy wave of relief rolled through Squall and he stood on numb legs, stumbling towards Shiva’s prone form awkwardly, his willowy limbs still thick with the remembrance of slumber. He threw his arms around her pale neck as soon as he was close enough and buried his face against cool scales, tears sliding unbidden down his own pale cheeks as he hugged her.

They didn't say anything to one another, merely collecting the comfort they shared in the knowledge that they were both safe. In the morning light, Squall slept tucked against his white dragon's side, Shiva’s head resting in his lap, regardless of how heavy it might be, his hand resting on her forehead, reassured that they were alive.

\----

It felt like an eternity that they were stuck on that mountain. It had been a week and a half before they were able to take flight again. The hunting had been unusually good, supply packs filled with hare and venison, smoked fish and wild oats. The riders and dragons finally made their way to the home of their kin, wary of patrols that seemed to travel ever further southward.

 

\----

 

"When we get there, just keep quiet, only speak when spoken too. You'll be a legend among the others, but they’ll have to wait. I'll present you to the Elders first thing when we get there," Seifer shouted over the rush of the winds. He had cleaned and polished his armor during the long hours of boredom on the mountain, leaving the leather and metal looking vastly cleaner and much more appropriate for a rider of old; he had even managed to shave. Seifer was almost smiling, glad for the prospect of a cozy bed, warm bath, clean clothes, and hot food. "Just wait ‘til you see the beds," he called to the elf with a roguish grin.

The time spent in the mountains had been both taxing and relaxing for Squall. When he thought about the darkness in the other rider, he became tense and concerned and if he did not think about it, it was easy to fall into the simplicity of the days spent in the scenery and relative serenity of the valley. By the time they left the mountain, he had been more than ready for it, unable to control the restlessness of his mind any longer. Grey-blues turned to Seifer when the broad man called to him over the wind.

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind," the elf replied quietly, voice hardly discernible over the whipping of air, returning the other rider's grin with a small sad smile of his own. He was nervous and apprehensive, depressed at the prospect of leaving the other pair after they had been together for what seemed such a long time. He could feel Shiva’s reluctance to leave their companions as well and it was not helping his resolve in the least. He wasn't sure he even wanted to stay at the keep if Seifer weren’t there. What could they possibly teach him that the other could not? And from what Seifer had just said, wouldn't it be a nuisance for Shiva and himself when all the other riders were bothering them with curiosity rather than teaching them. He’d never asked for fame.

Ifrit glanced towards his snowy counterpart. ‘I…’ he began, apprehensive and nervous, ‘I wanted to thank you. You saved my life and risked losing your wings. I just wanted to tell you that. I don't know if we'll see you again after you begin training.’ There was a hint of sadness in his tone; he had come to enjoy the company of another dragon.

The pale dragon's scarlet gaze settled on Ifrit brightly. ‘There is no need for such thanks. It was well worth it. I could not have left you or yours for dead. Squall would never have forgiven me or himself,’ Shiva paused for a moment, thinking on his other words, an acute sadness filling her before she forced it away instead pushing herself to remain calm, ‘No, we will meet again, I'm sure of it...’ she finished, determination in her words.

Ifrit gave a small almost timid grin in response to her words, hiding the elation he felt upon hearing that she did, in fact, want to see him again. He forced himself to hide the emotions from Seifer as well. A dwarf was less stubborn than his burly rider.

 

Ifrit arched an eye ridge as he sniffed the air, large nostrils flaring. He caught a whiff of something acrid. It was lost on the breeze as soon as quickly as he scented it. He turned his attention back to his pale counterpart, ‘I certainly hope we do, although, maybe under better circumstances.’ He tried to sound charming, but the abrupt return of the all too familiar scent dragged his attention away from Shiva once more. Something was wrong. His senses screamed a warning in response to the odour on the air, but it was too elusive for him to figure out what it was, so faint upon the breeze. He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating on the smell, pressing his mind to be forthcoming with the answer to what it was, why it was so familiar.

 

Burning.

 

Dragon burning.

 

War…

 

His eyes shot open; a sense of dread washed through the bond between him and Seifer.

 

‘The wind, do you smell it?’ the large dragon questioned his rider, a sense of urgency in his voice, the cottony clouds beneath them blocking his vision. Seifer did not respond, but Ifrit could feel his distressed agreement through their link.

 

Seifer and Ifrit spoke at the same time, the order echoing through the minds of their companions, ‘Stay here.’

 

With nary a glance at the other dragon and her rider, they descended beneath the cloud cover, skimming along the bottom in solemn silence. The sight that greeted them chilled the dragon and rider to the bone.

\---

 

Seifer's heart stopped beating for several seconds as emerald took in the sight beneath them. The countryside to the east was scorched black in evidence of fires. He could see the war path the army had traveled, leading straight to Dragonskeep. His eyes were wide, jaw clenched so tightly, it ached. A mix of fear and angry resentment boiled inside of him. It was days old; they’d arrived too late. All he could think of was the curse, his curse; it would stay with him forever. A tall pillar of thick, oily smoke curled into the sky in the south east; Dragonskeep. The army's path was long since turned cold, nothing, but dead earth left in its wake. ‘Up’ he whispered towards his dragon, bile rising on the back of his tongue as that one word shifted through their bond.

\---

 

Ifrit slowly rose back into the cloud bank next to Shiva and Squall. "This is not good. I think Dragonskeep is under siege," Seifer stated bleakly over the breeze, voice strained; even as he said the words, he knew that they were not true. They were too late. He prayed the keep was just under siege and had not already succumbed to the attacks, but he knew in the twisting of his gut that his prayers were futile. He motioned forward nonetheless and Ifrit flew onward at a quickened pace.

 

The white dragon and rider hovered in confusion, unsure of what had triggered such a startling response from their companions. Upon hearing the news of the siege on the Dragonskeep, they followed the other two without question. Squall's eyes burned with unshed tears as he looked down upon the ruins and Shiva let out a melancholy trill as they scanned the area below, the smoking remnants of what had once been the great Dragonskeep.

 

‘Do you see any survivors?’ the albino dragon asked Ifrit, following behind him at a slower pace, scarlet gaze scanning the scorched ground intently.

The land was blackened and barren. There were no moving bodies to be seen, only the scorched ruins of stone and the bones of their brethren. ‘It must have been the horde for there to be so much damage and likely several of the cursed king’s riders. Maybe some of ours got away, but if they stayed here...’ Ifrit’s voice was rough with anger and disgust, an underlying tone of hopelessness in his trailing words as he swooped down, landing quickly on the burned, ash-covered earth.

\---

 

Seifer dismounted, stilling on his feet in shock and disbelief, still praying that the scene before them and around them was a vivid nightmare. He stood before the still smoldering, crumbled entrance arch, the only remaining piece of the Dragonskeep architecture still remaining mostly standing. He was no longer sure where to go, where to bring his charge, where he might obtain release from the dark magic strangling his heart. He sat down abruptly, slumping onto his knees on the ground. What point was there? There might be survivors, but they would not be able to fight back any longer, their numbers halved at least by the siege.

Shiva had followed after Ifrit, landing next to him on the stained earth. ‘Where would the survivors flee if they escaped?’ she inquired quietly, crimson eyes shifting from the carnage to the dark dragon next to her as Squall dismounted and moved to kneel near Seifer.

‘Anywhere not human. The fall back has always been to flee to the Dwarves or the Elves, if ever there was a siege and the keep were to fall,’ Ifrit murmured, shuddering as he tried not to think about how many of their allied riders had died. ‘Not many would have escaped,’ he closed his eyes, unable to watch his forlorn rider in the midst of his ruined hope. ‘Maybe we can travel to the other lands, find the survivors.’ It was false hope. He knew in his heart, just as his rider did that they were out of hope, the last of it washed away with the smoke of the destroyed keep, but he could not bring himself to say so to the hopeful dragoness beside him.

 

\---

 

"I'm sorry Seifer," Squall said sincerely, resting a soft, white hand on the other rider's forearm, trying to give the other man some comfort no matter how small. His heart ached seeing the scarred rider's pained expression, the desolateness in it making fresh tears collect in his stormy eyes, but he held them back. It was almost as if he could feel the pain emanating from the other man as he knelt close beside him, waves of echoing through him.

Seifer flinched slightly as the hand touched his forearm, but he did not pull away from the comforting touch of the pale fingers. There weren't even corpses to bury, nothing but ash and blackened bones scattered and already turning to dust. It was just gone, everything was gone. His freedom was gone. The fragile hope to be free of his curse that he had carried for the better part of a century was gone. No matter what happened now, he would die and he would bring Ifrit to hell with him, not on his terms, not even in the glory of battle, but because of some vengeance caused curse and a thrice damned sorceress. Glassy emerald stared blankly at the ashes, running them between his fingers unconsciously for several moments. Slowly, the warmth of those soft, pale fingers wrapped around his forearm brought him back to his senses.

"We need to leave," he stated, but could not find the strength to stand, his body numb. What else was there to do? Where was there to go when any survivors there might have been did not leave a trace to be followed? The mad king had won. Seifer was hated by both sides. There was no more war for him to fight, no reason for him to carry on; nothing was left and he felt empty.

Seeing and feeling the hollowness in the other man's eyes terrified Squall in a way he had never known. "Hey, everything is not ruined. There's still you and I and there are probably some survivors, perhaps scattered on the wind, but still alive. You can't give up here or all those who have died will have done so in vain. All is not lost. The dread king is not invincible and I have a dragon the likes of which he's never seen. You must help me. Seifer please," the elf said seriously, eyes determined and bright with conviction as his grip tightened ever so slightly on Seifer’s arm. He needed the other rider, could not continue without him. He needed the guidance, the training as a rider for both himself and Shiva if they were to have any hope of challenging the king in the future.

\---

 

Shiva nodded absently to Ifrit’s words. ‘As long as there are still riders to fight against the tyrant king, there is hope,’ she spoke very softly, her voice solemn and serious, filled with conviction. When she had been born to the Elven rider, that hope for a better future had been her belief, had been ingrained her as she had become fond of him, proud of him and protected him and he protected her, had healed her grave wounds at his own expense and she would never give up on him, on the hope that they could win this war. ‘You must've have believed that once...’

Ifrit laid down on the ashen ground, suddenly too tired to remain upright, drained by the roiling emotions flowing within his bond with his rider. Listening to her words struck a chord deep within him. He had believed in hope once, but that was before… He wanted to tell her the truth now, but he knew how she would react. The knowledge he could provide her would shatter whatever bond had been steadily growing between the pair of them. To tell her of the years he and Seifer had spent fighting for the wrong side, following the dark king’s bidding, becoming the Obsidian Knight, ruthless mercenary for hire, employed by the mad king and given the title for his deeds, before being captured by the Rebels and suddenly working for them; it would not be hard for her to put the pieces of the puzzle together. He shook his head. ‘Maybe… Three hundred years is a long time to believe in something so intangible. A lot of time to collect regret, a lot of funerals,’ he spoke softly, wishing he could go back and change what had happened. ‘I'm sorry.’ He looked away, unable to look her in the eyes. ‘I don't know if I am capable of hope anymore.’ Silently, he wished he did not feel he had to lie.

 

‘If you wish for death, then death will come, but doesn't hope make the future a little less bleak. I know you have been alone all this time. I know there are some things you are keeping hidden. I am aware of this, yet I still place my trust in you and your rider. I have staked my own life for you, my wings. I have staked the sky for you and he. If you two become cowards here then lay down and die here in the ashes of the fallen. I was obviously mistaken in whom I thought you to be... Do not waste time on apologies and questions you do not have the answers to. Stop wallowing in your past. It can't be changed, but the future can...’ The albino's crimson eyes sparked with electricity as she spoke her words, almost angry as she said them to the male dragon, fed up with him and his rider's indecision and their helpless whining. It would get them nowhere. ‘You make up your minds here. I won't have him hurt by betrayal. You travel with us or I take my rider and leave you two here. Make the choice...’

She may have been young, but this was a world at war and they were soldiers now. There were no others to take up the fight. Her kin had given her to the elf, had entrusted him for this and they could not fail.

 

\---

 

"Maybe," Seifer spoke softly, voice barely audible even in the desolate quiet. There were still other races, other nations. Maybe they would rally against the Hamar legion. Dwarves cared little for humans, cared little for anything outside of their world of stone and the Elves, lost in their purity and forests; what hope did they have? What choice did they have? He shook his head. "You're right, what choice do we have?" Only his death lay in the direction of this mad hope; at least he could still make that choice.

"There is always a choice Seifer. You don't have to help me, but I feel that if you don't, I will surely fail. What other allies do we have? Let us find them now and rally against the tyrant king," the brunette elf said with a disarming smile, stormy eyes shimmering as he spoke to the other man.

"Look kid, again, my choice boils down to die here or die there. Your path just seems more interesting. So yes, I'll train you. Hell, I'll even fight." Seifer’s words were harder, more confident in the face of Squall’s earnestness. The boy's desperate optimism would get annoying. Still, he may as well take the youth on his quest, more likely another facet of the never-ending war. War he understood; war was simple. It had had been his life for more years than he cared to count, the life of a mercenary, filled with war after war, what was one more battle in the face of the many he’d already seen.

\---

The dark dragon could not hide his smirk as Shiva almost growled her words at him. His smirk grew to a grin, before growing further into a hissing laughter. The laughter grew to a loud roar before Ifrit managed to silence himself long enough to speak.

 

‘You're right, young one,’ he managed to respond through his sudden mirth. He was not even sure why he was laughing. He shook his head, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

 

‘Gods it's been so long...’ Ifrit gave a lopsided smile towards Shiva. ‘I've never known one so young to be so... Firey, especially for one who breathes ice,’ he paused briefly, ‘And I do not wallow, I flounder.’ Distantly he felt the roiling anguish and despair settling in Seifer, turning instead to cold resignation and he shook his great head.

 

The pale dragoness gave Ifrit a toothy grin of her own, dark amusement colouring her own response, ‘There's no difference in my opinion, floundering, wallowing; it's moot. You must stop looking back and turn your gaze forward lest you trip over your own feet. Now if we could only convince your stubborn rider to change his melancholy ways...’ she trailed off, looking at the two riders and sighing. Her own rider was too optimistic for the obstinate man he spoke with, but perhaps someday the warmth of Squall’s hopeful nature would rub off on Seifer, though as he was, it seemed doubtful.

 

‘Three hundred long years of practice makes it hard to change old habits,’ the indigo dragon added, still shaking his head at the sight of his rider accompanied by the stone-like chill that had settled within the tall blond. ‘I’m not sure if he even remembers how to care.’ There was a brief sombreness in Ifrit’s voice before he once again steeled himself; if Seifer could not care than his dragon would just have to care enough for the both of them. Rallying the nations against the mad king under the new leadership of the first rider to be born in three centuries, a terribly young and naïve pair, filled with bright hope and faith, especially faith in he and Seifer; the others would follow, he knew, after all if the boy could convince the dreaded Obsidian Knight to fight for them, surely he could convince the entire world. Shiva would follow her rider, her partner, her faith was not blind, but strong with her hopeful conviction and the knowledge of her own powerful magic. He found he could not let her travel alone, could not bring himself to abandon her, that tiny flame that had ignited upon meeting the newest pair, the innate attraction he had forced to the deepest corners of his mind flared to life once more and even if she never returned the sentiments, he could no longer deny what he longed for from she and her elf, what he would be willing to lose in order to make her dreams for the future a reality. ‘Seifer will fight if I do. I suppose that's good enough for now...’ He gave a curious half-hearted smile; perhaps Seifer would come to care in time. Ifrit knew that buried somewhere within his rider, that same flame, that same attraction was aflame, just carefully hidden away lest it be extinguished entirely; perhaps if they could show him that there was hope yet, he would let himself believe in that little flame. ‘This is going to be a longer ride. We'll have to avoid any lingering Legion Soldiers.’

 

‘I suppose that's acceptable for now. He has no conviction of his own, but perhaps in time...’ she trailed off quietly almost as if she were speaking to herself and not the dark dragon. She seemed lost in her own thoughts for a time before coming back to herself, belatedly responding to Ifrit’s final words. ‘Hmm, no matter the distance, I will endure. My wings are good as new thanks to Squall's strong healing magic. We can leave immediately,’ she stated before stepping towards her rider with clear purpose, determination swirling in the crimson depths of her eyes.

 

\---

 

"Which direction should we go in?" Squall asked curiously, looking around them in each direction, trying to discern anything on the landscape, though there was nothing of consequence to be seen. He chose not to comment further on the morbidity of Seifer's view of himself and his own fate. It was futile to argue with the other man at this point. He would just have to try and bring out the more tender side of the other rider while they traveled and trained, that is if Seifer even had a tender side...

 

Seifer motioned vaguely towards the northeast. "Druids would be closest, then we'll find out from there," he intoned idly, distaste evident in his voice.

 

‘She might have escaped, knowing that woman, she likely did,’ Ifrit’s voice whispered in his ear.

 

‘Of course she did. Lady Rinoa would sell her first born to save her own skin, cowardly witch that she is,’ he responded viciously. He might run across her again; he had to believe that she was still alive and would one day remove the damned curse she’d hexed him with from his heart; return him his freedom. And one of them was going to die; it would be her. Seifer would not be caught unawares again. He walked with long strides towards Ifrit, mounting the large dragon’s back swiftly, settling into the well-worn saddle with ease.

Squall nodded his approval of the other man's decision. The druids would be as good an ally as any other, their knowledge of the land and their ability to hear the trees' voices would be an asset. As Shiva came to him, he placed a shaking hand against her nose, a habit he hadn't realized he'd developed to reassure himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steeling his resolve. When he opened his eyes again, his hand no longer shook and his slate eyes held the fire of determination to match that of his pale dragon’s. He mounted the albino dragoness and looked to the other pair to lead the way. "Do you know where to find them?" he questioned idly. Knowing his cousins, they were well hidden away from the human scum and it was doubtful that Seifer knew their exact whereabouts.

"Stand in a forest kickin' trees ‘til one of them hits back," the tall blonde muttered. He held an immense dislike for the druids. They were so wrapped up in their precious nature, oblivious to the plight of the nations around them. "Once we get there, I’m sure they'll find us," he finished. He had met them once before and it had been more than enough for him not to wish a repeat visit. That diplomatic mission had not ended well to say the least. He cracked his neck idly with a soft grunt, shifting the straps and harness of the saddle.

 

"Let's fly," he ordered, giving Ifrit a thump on one scarred shoulder with a large hand. He very much doubted he would be welcomed with open arms from the druids simply because he was human, shudder to think what they might do if they realized just which human he was.

\---

 

The indigo dragon stretched his wings wide, shifting on the ashen earth. The down stroke caused a wall of ash to erupt behind him as he pulled himself into the air. Then he was off, taking to the air, circling and heading towards the northeast before climbing up higher into the soot stained clouds. Ifrit dreaded the flight, if only because there would be nowhere to land in the green ocean of the Drudaic forests upon their arrival; he was perhaps as fond of them as his rider.

The Elven youth shook his head, smiling slightly at the obvious contempt Seifer had for his cousins of the north, not that they had any pleasant feelings towards the likes of Seifer himself. It was bound to be a rather interesting affair once they reached the north eastern forests where his distant kin resided. As Shiva took off after the dark dragon and rider, Squall twisted in his seated position a little, shuffling in his newly mended packs, finding that his flute was still tucked into the satchel, safely stored between extra tunics and leather strappings. He smiled to himself, knowing that the slim instrument would certainly come in handy once they arrived in the forests of his kin. Once they were in the Druid village, he would be able to get a new bow and pick up a few other useful items he knew to be there, herbs and the like for cooking and medicinal purposes. He wondered idly if the other rider was aware of the elves' relation to the Druids. It was unlikely considering the secretiveness of both races, the elves and their druid cousins, both of which wanted little to do with the humans in recent centuries.

 

He leaned down, pressing himself flat against Shiva’s broadening back as she increased her speed, following the other pair. She had grown again in the past few weeks, making her a little more than half Ifrit's size. She had told him that she would not grow much passed her current size, though her wingspan might increase several more feet, but it was of no concern, female dragons were not known for their general size, the males more commonly being at least twice the size of an average female or larger. It mattered little to either of them as Shiva was more than capable of holding Squall’s slight weight, his lithe frame easily fitting atop her back.

 

***Three days into their journey…***

 

Ifrit’s intimidating roar ripped through the skies in response to a number of growling caws sounding in the distance. Seifer watched as three shadows appeared in the clouds around them.

 

‘Dragons are not welcome here and riders even less so,’ one beast cawed as it rose out of the grey clouds, revealing a regal looking eagle head with a horse's body, wings spread wide upon the current of air. ‘We seek none of the wars that follow you.’

 

Seifer spoke first, voice carrying over the soft rush of wind, "We are not dark riders. We bare no ill will."

 

‘We are aware of just whom you are,’ another of the griffins spat derisively, disdain dripping from the simple words.

 

‘It is not you we worry over knight, but the other. The king hunts for you,’ the third great creature spoke, his words directed at Shiva. ‘The white dragon is the one he seeks.’

 

‘The bounty is very high, fit for a small kingdom,’ there was malicious laughter in the voices now, ‘Many are hunting you. Again, you are not welcome here. Go back.’

Shiva hung in the air, listening acutely, curiosity piqued as the griffins spoke harsh words of warning. When they had finished addressing her and Squall, she spoke in return, ‘We mean only to pass through. Will you allow us passage?’

 

There was an audible snort of derision. ‘To what gain?’ the first of the large birdlike creatures asked gruffly, golden eyes trained on the pale dragon as she hovered before them.

 

"The knowledge that when we win this war, you and yours will no longer have need to hide from the dread king's poachers," it was the elf who spoke from his dragon's back in response.

 

The griffins hissed angrily. ‘We do not fear the king!’ they spoke in unison, their synced voices irate with heated denial.

 

‘Is that why the king possesses all the hatchlings and the eggs snatched right from your mountain nesting grounds?’ Shiva asked idly, tone bored as though commenting on the weather. Squall wasn't sure how she had come by such information, but he did not doubt its truth. The king had made it a point to take all things for himself and crush any who refused him.

 

The trio tossed their heads with restless annoyance, unable to deny the opal dragon’s words. ‘Pass then and do not return!’ they commanded, turning away from the group and retreating a ways higher into the cloud cover.

 

Shiva hardly spared the angry beings more than a curt nod of acknowledgement before she jerked her head in the direction their party had been heading before they had been interrupted, her mind churning over the information they had gleaned from the winged creatures. So word had spread to the king about the new rider and his snowy dragon of the ice.

 

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Soooo there we have it, the second half of what was original one gigantic chapter now more easily read as two. Hope you all enjoyed it. As always, reviews are welcome.
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> Xander


	5. Interlude One: Pretty Painted Prophecies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ultemecia is a werewolf...

Interlude One: Pretty Painted Prophecies

 

Gossamer cobwebs swayed in the forgotten eddies in the air. Torches hung on the stone walls. A portly sweating man ran down the hall at a brisk pace. An experienced pace to travel distance while maintaining appropriate dignity. He was wheezing by the time he reached the stair down into the lower levels of the dark stone castle. With renewed vigor only a lifetime of serving can muster, the man sucked in a new breath, and his gut and began to hurry down the stairs. The messenger had reached him first, but it would only be a matter of time before the king was made aware. He had sworn to tell his Queen first. He nearly fell down the stairs in his haste, coming to a stop just in front of an ornate and heavy wooden door. Once again, the man composed himself, calming his wheezing lungs, and straightening his clothes and wig. Finally, with a deep breath and a singular hard knock, he opened the door.

"M'lady," his timid voice called in the darkness of the castle's underbelly.

A low growl emanated from a stone work table against the far wall, lit by one flickering candle. A skeletal arm etched with dark runes sat on the surface of the stone table in front of a large, nude wolfish creature. Golden eyes magnified by glimmering lenses revealed the ebb and flow of energies in the bone, never once turning to look upon the servant.

"What is it?" the tall, slim female questioned in a demanding tone, clearly irritated by the interruption in the ritual she was performing.

"Reports of a dragon with breath of ice have come in from one of the villages to the south,” was the curt and to the point response she received.

The anthropomorphic wolfess froze. Slowly reaching up and removing the lenses from her forehead and setting them onto the table next to the rune encrusted bone and slanted those knowing golden eyes in the direction of the servant, whom servant shifted back and forth on nervous feet beneath her sudden scrutiny.

"Y-you asked to be informed of this before the king if possible."

The wolf pushed herself away from the workbench abruptly and stood up, turning to fully face the nervous servant. "Indeed. You’ve done well."

The servant seemed relieved by her words, relaxing ever so slightly. She walked towards the wall, picking up a flowing robe and slipping into it, tying it at the waist to cover her body from view. The embroidery mimicked the play of the flickering light on the shadows as she walked past the servant without another word, leaving the servant to return to his duties. She would inform her king. As she began to take the first steps up the stairway, she paused as the servant spoke up once more.

"M'lady, there were also reports, of a large man, who rode a dragon the colour of midnight. They recovered his greatsword after a small skirmish in one of the outer towns," he spoke quickly, not wanting to waste the Queen’s precious time any more than was necessary, "It was him, m'lady."

She hummed her acknowledgement, a small smile revealing sharp fanged teeth before she continued up the stairs without a backwards glance, silent but for the whisper of her long robe on the cold stone. She made several quick stops along her way in preparation for her king’s reaction to the news she now had for him.

She pulled out the braid that held her long black hair up, running her hands though and fluffing it out as she made her way to the throne room. A brief moment was spent outside the large double doors to push up her breasts and brush off dust from the robes. The guards posted to either side of the door did not so much as blink before as she made herself presentable before the wolfess stepped forward, pushing the doors open on her own. Ultemecia, mother of the son, the Kir dragon rider, bonded love of the mad king entered the large throne room with an air of authority to equal that of the man who sat upon the throne.

The thick barrel chested form of the king Lazarus sat upon a high-backed throne, his rugged squared jaw resting on one large fist propped on the left armrest. He was lost in his own thoughts, strategies and plans playing out in his mind's eye. Days were flowing by, greedily eaten up by time, becoming the past at an alarming rate and still there had been no sign of the prophesied rider. He was getting anxious, beginning to think the oracle had made a mistake. He drummed the fingers of his unoccupied hand on the other armrest, heavy rings making dull sounds as they impacted with the varnished wood of the thrown he sat upon. He was restless. The latest searches had been just as unfruitful as the others before them in finding the foretold rider.

He looked up abruptly, straightening himself in his thrown as the door opened with an exaggerated thunder across the great thrown room, setting the many tapestries to swinging with the breeze the gigantic, ornately carved door caused when it opened. A smile brightened his handsomely masculine features as his wife and bonded entered the chamber. "My love," he greeted warmly, "What brings you here at this hour?"

"My king," she bowed in a courtly manner as she reached the foot of the throne, "I wished to be the one to tell you." She smiled knowingly, her tail flicking against the robes that caught in an idle draft as she looked upon her husband.

"It appears that two dragons were sighted, two weeks ago, flying towards the now destroyed Dragonskeep. Scriers say that one was injured, delaying them previously. They would have only reached the ruins three days ago if the winds were kind," she explained, thorough with the facts. "One of the riders rode a pure white dragon that breathed ice. And the other-" she paused briefly, looking straight at her love, "The other dragon is armoured in twilight, who's rider, a mountain of a man, wields a great sword by the name of Hyperion, a great sword you had once gifted to the very man yourself," she continued with a smile, "Seems the Obsidian Knight has found himself some very interesting traveling companions." She watched her husband's face as she finished speaking, surprised by the relatively good turn of events.

The king stood, icy blue eyes bright with emotion as his wife spoke her tidings. "The rider of the prophecy? Is it so? And Seifer, rotten traitor that he is, is in the company of the new rider..." he trailed off, apparently thinking. Many ideas and plans that had been formed in his mind, were cast out and replaced with others as he stepped towards the kir, running a hand over the back of the dark hair and down to her neck to rub there affectionately. "We should speak with the oracle and have the scriers find where they have gone after finding the keep in ruin immediately."

"Of course my love," her smile unwavering as she responded, closing her eyes, accepting the warm touch of his hand upon her nape. The feel of him still made her heart skip a beat when he touched her. She was distracted for a moment before coming back to her sense and pulled away from him reluctantly. She grasped his hand in one of her own instead and began pulling him towards the east wing of the castle. "I've taken the liberty of telling them to prepare for you. I did not want to waste any time." Her golden eyes nearly glowed beneath the dark fur and hair. They were close, so close to their victory. "They are scrying and the Oracle is preparing for his ritual. I told him to wait until you were present."

"You are too clever my Queen," he said as he followed her, a large hand at the small of her back as they made their way from the thrown room towards the east wing where the scriers and oracle were waiting at the ready.

When he pushed the door open, all occupants save for the oracle bowed respectfully. He barely acknowledged them as he swept into the room, his wife at his side, his presence immediately filling the space in the room, intimidating the occupants easily. The scriers averted their gazes, murmuring softly to themselves as they prepared the things they needed to scry for the particular persons as their Queen had commanded, a heavy silver great sword laid out before them upon a silk covered table next to a risen basin of clear water set between the three scriers.

The oracle sat in a high backed chair, long mossy brown hair pulled up into several intricate braids along the Druid’s head, the greenish tinted skin seeming darker in the dim candlelight as he regarded all in the room with disinterest.

"Oracle, you know why I've come,” Lazarus said as he came to stand before the other creature.   
The oracle regarded the king silently for several moments before bowing his head slightly in affirmation. His robes were tinged with greenery ending at the rooted feet of the high backed chair he sat upon, verdant eyes watching the king before he stood with ghostly grace. The oracle motioned to his right with one bony hand. A twisted servant brought forth a pedestal, on top of which sat a squat, rusted cauldron. The murky black liquid bubbled within without the aid of any flame. The air around it seemed thicker, stagnant and lifeless.

The Druid whispered dark words, forgotten by all but the oldest of elements, hardly audible or understandable in the now silent room. A strange powder poured into his dark hand. The flickering light around the powder seemed darker, less forgiving than the voice in which he chanted. He deftly poured the powder into the bubbling liquid of the cauldron before him. As the last grain touched the surface, the darkness in the water began to congeal, flowing over and under itself, pushing ever closer towards the centre of the pot. It tumbled upwards and out of the now crystal clear water within the confines of the cauldron, the mass boiling and hissing in the air over the oracle’s outstretched hand. Wisps of white smoke snaked off of the coiling mixture, slithering up along the oracle’s arm.

The Druid opened pale, greenish lips and inhaled the white smoke deeply, eyes closing in concentration. The ball over his palm ignited suddenly and then dissipated altogether, leaving nothing in it’s wake as the last of the smoke breached the oracle’s lips. His chest became still without new breath and the druid's eyes were black as onyx when they opened once more, his face seeming different, as though something else wore his flesh. It looked at the king and queen, cocking its head to the side. Primal, feral, terrifying power swirled in the depths of the jet orbs of its eyes and it grinned darkly, revealing a sharp, black smile.

“Indeed, I know why you have come,” it whispered, echoing voices speaking of the darkest secrets and desires. “I know of that which you seek.” The blackness of the creature’s eyes sparked with flashes of dark intellect as it spoke. It suddenly stiffened, the Druid’s borrowed body becoming rigid before ominous words spilled forth from its mouth.

“One of fire.  
One of Ice.  
Elven Hope.  
Human Vice.

One a warrior, beating stone.  
One a mage, young, alone.  
The knight in the dark.  
The prophecy's chosen.  
Lonely heart.  
Love's betrayal.

Scales of white.  
Scales of midnight.  
United, the crown shall fall.  
Divided, the crown shall rule.

Elves of the forests.  
Dwarves of the mountains.  
Keepers of the verdant green.  
United, against the darkness raised  
In human hands.

Seed of Ice and fire,  
To the wolven prince.  
When lands burn,  
And rivers be stained with magical blood.  
Lightning calls to the scales  
And the war cries sound.  
Balance of light and dark.  
His choice  
To determine which shall prevail.  
Death, life, love, strife.”

The king listened intently as the dark creature took hold of the druid's form and spoke, the words of the prophecy, the future that was yet to come. He gritted his teeth, jaw clenching and his hand twitched against his wife's back as the creature poke without pause. The strange wording of the prophecy was confusing as nothing was set in stone, but the message was clear enough to the king. Seifer and the new rider must be separated from one another as swiftly as possible. It was clear to the king who the white and who the midnight was in the tale the oracle spun. And the bit at the end pertained to his very own son, but he did not fully comprehend what exactly the words directed at his heir meant. It was irrelevant for the time being. It would not come to pass as long as they managed to retrieve the two rogue riders before they had the chance to become bonded. And he fully intended to do just that and keep them separated for all eternity if necessary unless they pledged their allegiance to his cause, his kingdom.

He looked to his wife with a sidelong glance, a multitude of dark plans swirling in the depths of his icy blue eyes.

"Oracle, tell me how long do we have before the prophecy will come to pass? When will they bond?" he questioned, needing an outline for the amount of time he had in order to capture the two companions.  
"Uncertain, unclear,” it spoke dismissively in response, the Druid’s body beginning to shudder violently, struggling to keep the darkness within confined.

“Scales already know.  
Darkness breeds within the vice.  
Beating stone, weathered, strong  
But weaker now for what's been done.  
To die before love  
Or love before death.  
Undecided.  
The scales know.”

The creature spoke in a twisted sing song voice as though this were nothing more than an amusing game. “A wolf's betrayal will bring the crown from head to feet. This kingdom will burn with ice and flame. Madness to consume the king of corpses who laughs at the crown beneath his boots, Lazarusssss…” it hissed, pausing to gaze at the king a moment before continuing, “You shall have what you seek, but not that which matters to you most in time,” it finished with a wicked knowing smile, dark laughter echoing and tapering off into silence as the Druid’s body went limp, the dark spell expiring and leaving its host exhausted, falling unceremoniously back into the Earthen seat.  
One of the scriers looked up abruptly from the water, his eyes unfocused and bloodshot. He blinked, rubbing them with one scarred fist. "East… They wish to parley with the Druids," he spoke in a sudden, strained voice. Again, the young scrier rubbed roughly at his eyes. The others did not notice as they merely continued to stare into the scrying basin in an unblinking, unflinching stare.  
The king carded a hand roughly through his dark hair, Considering the words of his oracle and the scrier. The Druidaic forest was leagues away, hundreds in fact and even the closest troupes were at least ten days travel from the forested area by horse. Only on dragon back would that time be divided by three. He made a frustrated sound. They would have to wait until Seifer and his companion left the Druid lands to catch them. It was obvious what the two were up to, making peace and allies. They would move on from the Druids to the Elves or perhaps the Dwarves, both of which the king was uncertain of their exact locations, but with the scriers, they could surely catch the mismatched pair on their way as long as they drew closer.

"Come my love, let us go to our chambers and talk. There is much to be said," he suggested, one arm sliding more firmly around Ultemecia's slim waist.  
The Queen tipped her head in a farewell to the scriers before glancing to her husband. "Lead the way my king." She smiled once again, walking close to him, enjoying the feeling of his arm around her. "They still have much work to do."

It was a short journey to the royal chambers. Finally, behind the lock of their chamber door, away from the toadies of court and prying ears of the hallways of their palace, the Queen spoke freely, "Now my love, what is it you wished to talk about?" She feigned playful ignorance, idly walking over towards one of the tables that held some of her books and study notes.  
"What shall we do with our son?" he questioned in response to her inquiry, removing his tunic to reveal a muscled and scarred chest as he spoke. He toed off his boots before following his wife further into the room.

Their son in question was being kept in a monastery in the mountains as it was, but with the reiteration of the prophecy and the cryptic, unstable timeline for it to come to fruition made the king anxious to have his heir where he could keep his own close watch on the young prince. He seated himself on the bed, folding one leg beneath his large frame as he sat and looked at the beautiful creature before him.  
Their boy, Zell had once been the pride and joy of his father, until the prophecy had been foretold and Lazarus knew that isolation of the boy hurt his bonded and their child as well, but he had no seen any other way to keep him safe from the words of the oracle.  
Ultemecia visibly winced in response to mention of their beloved son, taking off her robes unconsciously and letting them fall to pool at her feet. She had always preferred the comfort of nudity, finding that clothing did not feel right against her fur. She shook her head, sending tousled dark locks of hair about her shoulders and neck. "You locked him away in a monastery, keep him there and maybe he'll play no part in this war of yours." She wished she could believe her own words, but she dearly missed her child. "But, he never forgave you for that. Maybe if you were to bring him back, instruct him, a sort of father-son bonding between a king and his heir," she tried to hide the hope in her voice as she moved over to sit behind her husband, hands slowly massaging his shoulders. "I know why you sent him away. It was the right thing to do then and I don't want him to get hurt. I know you'll do what's right for this kingdom.," she whispered reassuringly, lips close to his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder gently.  
"I'll send for him," Lazarus replied, tilting his head so she could better access the tense muscles there. He could feel the knots loosening beneath her hands before she leaned against him, her fur soft on the flesh of his back. "I wish it had not been so. Perhaps this will be the time to reconcile," he sighed quietly, covering one of her hands with his own large one.

"We must find Almasy and the Elfling. We cannot lose this kingdom."

The Queen gave a soft smile, trying not to betray her joy upon hearing his answer. Her arms slipped down around her husband's waist, holding him tightly, feeling his heart beating against her own. She basked in his scent, the feel of his comforting hand covering her own as she closed her eyes slowly.

"Thank you love," she murmured quietly, holding her king to herself, "I know that you won't lose the kingdom we have fought so hard to obtain."  
"Zell loves you, but when you bring him home, give him time. Show him you still care for him," she breathed, gently kissing his neck. She knew her kin in the courts would be overjoyed that the prodigal son would return. The only heir to the throne that they would ever have.

The king tilted his head, revealing more of his neck to his wife's gentle lips, sighing softly as the tenseness bled from his muscles. He pulled the hand held in his to his lips and kissed it tenderly, reveling in the soft feeling of fur beneath his lips.  
Reluctantly, he pulled away from his wife to lay back on the plush mattress instead, before reaching for her, pulling her in close against his thick chest. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing a little before relaxing. "It has always made my heart ache with anguish, having sent our only son away. Zell is and always will be the heir to this throne, though the oracle’s words are worrisome. I can no longer turn him away. It is time to bring our boy home and make things right," he said quietly, his rough voice taking on a husky tone.

"We will take the knight and his cohort and convince them to side with us. Otherwise, I'll kill them."

The wolfess gave a soft chuckle, laying down next to her king and gazing up at him. "Really?" her voice purred softly, one charcoal furred hand trailing up and down her husband's chest in random patterns as she spoke, "You would kill the Obsidian Knight?" She slipped a leg over his. "I thought he was one of your favorites." She gave a playful jab to his abdomen with her claws. "He was always one of mine," she arched a dark brow, almost suggestively as he words fell from her lips. "Shouldn't be too hard to sway him, after all, where else can he go now?" She leaned upwards, kissing the bottom of Lazarus’ chin. "I must admit though, I almost wish him to refuse; I may have a score to settle with him.”

Lazarus gave a soft rumble of acknowledgment in his throat, "I would kill him to protect what is ours. Favourite or not, he will not destroy this kingdom," he vowed with an air of finality as his wife pressed closer to him, a soft leg sliding over his own. He smiled slightly when she gave him a playful nip with her claws and her lips pressed against his chin.

"Should I leave his fate to you then my love?" he questioned idly at the statement his mate had last spoken.

"I think I can be most persuasive to have him follow your banner once again, my lord," she said seductively as she pushed herself up, sliding across his lap, looking down at the face of her love intently. "If not, then I'm sure I can find a use for him, one away or another." A pointed claw tapped against her love's shoulder with every syllable, a devilish glint flashing in golden irises and Lazarus could almost see the tortures his wife would no doubt enjoy inflicting on their once ally.

The velvet soft grey fur on her front rubbed against the king as she pressed closer, leaning in to barely a breath could be between them. "Besides, I am very curious to know why he decided to change his colors so suddenly when we were only gaining more power," she mused idly.

"I have no doubt in your powers of persuasion my love," Lazarus spoke with a knowing grin as his wife straddled him. He slid large hands to her hips, rubbing the palms over the soft fur there, before continuing in response to her musings, "As am I. What could they have offered to turn him traitor?" he pondered idly, agreeing with his wife's curiosity. He slid one hand up her side to her back, twirling his fingers through the long locks that cascaded down her back as he watched her, their bodies fitting together perfectly, his other hand resting on her hip, his thumb rubbing circles over a tempting hipbone.

She rocked back on her king’s lap in a suggestive manner. "Maybe he knows of the prophecy?" she suggested idly, although she doubted her own words. Seifer had always been too stubborn to put much weight behind empty words from the mouth of a Druid no less. "No, he is far too materialistic, whatever made him turn coat had to be worth more than the spoils of war," she considered out loud before a mocking grin tugged at her mouth. "You don't suppose he found religion?" she joked, amused by the thought. 

The king chuckled deep in his chest at his wife's jesting tone. "Unlikely. Perhaps they found something to blackmail him with..." he said idly in response, tone distracted as he pressed up more firmly again his mate's rocking hips, leaning up to kiss her briefly as she leaned over him. He smiled into the kiss, "Or perhaps they just have lovelier whores…"

The wolfess’ laughter rang out sharply in the dim room as she pushed downward against her king in a teasing manner, her bushy grey tail flicking back and forth between her lover's legs gleefully. Ultemecia bit her tongue as she gazed down at her king, deciding not to further pursue their conversation. "Enough talk of our wayward knight," she whispered, her voice a sultry lilt as her golden eyes met those of her bonded.

"Certainly there are more interesting topics to explore at the moment," she punctuated the statement with a suggestive squeeze of her thighs as she leaned down to kiss her husband again. He merely hummed in response, returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm, all too pleased to push the plans to the back of his exhausted mind for a time. 

 

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know it's kinda awkward with the sort of sexual tension between Ultemecia and Lazarus, but hey, they're both crazy for each other... Uhh, I mean crazy in general and yeah, Zell's their kid, seriously don't think too hard about it; it's not pretty... But it's necessary for plot, so deal. Sorry if any of it made any of you nice folks uncomfortable... If it makes any of you feel better, there is absolutely no smut going to take place between them and the above chapter is about as naughty as it'll get. 
> 
> Anyhow, comments are always welcome.
> 
> Xander

**Author's Note:**

> So R&R please. This story should be fun to write. Hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> A/N: It occurred to me just as I uploaded the last two chapters that I had not left any notes to explain speech, so here they are in case anyone was confused:
> 
> "Regular speech"
> 
> 'Mental speech'
> 
> Thoughts...


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